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Chapter 12
At his words, when Sioden turned to look this way, I realized he was even more handsome than I remembered.
His pale forehead contrasted with his black wedding attire, giving him a more mature impression than usual. His eyes and gaze looked deeper than I recalled, and above all, seeing his face without anger reminded me of the first time I had properly seen him under moonlight.
Back then, Sioden had truly smiled brightly.
The youthful freshness had stained his delicate features vividly.
As I recalled that unforgettable moment, my heart naturally began to beat faster. That irrational pace only increased when his long fingers lifted my veil.
When his head tilted toward me, I could no longer look at him.
I closed my eyes and surrendered to the darkness, but instead of a kiss, a low voice brushed against my cheek.
“Your clothes are thin.”
His hand, which had lifted the veil, brushed near my ear.
As if about to kiss me, he leaned in and whispered.
“In the North, dressing like this will give you a fever.”
“I’ll give you something to wear after the ceremony, so please put it on.”
His tone was rather cold compared to before, yet strangely gentle. Just like when we first met—no, even more than then.
Perhaps there was something like love and trust between us, at least a little.
As I mulled over the thought I had during the recent vow of marriage, my mouth went dry like that of a child about to be scolded.
If there was love between us, it would ultimately become a mistake, so it was only natural.
As his hand withdrew and my veil fell again, brushing my ear, I answered.
“Thank you, but I’m fine without a coat. I’ll be changing my clothes anyway…”
By custom, the bride changes into a separately prepared dress for the reception after the ceremony.
Sioden, still facing forward, said,
“I see.”
His low voice felt like it resonated not in my ears, but in my chest.
It was like a stone thrown into a lake where not even a flower bloomed, where even birds would not come—a strange, ticklish ripple I had never felt before.
When it was time to change into the reception dress, I thought it might have been better to accept the clothes Sioden would have given me.
The dress made at the same atelier did not differ much from the wedding dress. It was deeply cut around the neck, if not the shoulders, making it feel cold.
What on earth was Iswen planning to use my coat for? At this point, I was genuinely curious.
I settled for a shawl, but even that felt too thin.
When I entered the banquet hall, Sioden was already seated. It was the seat prepared for the ritual of presenting guests’ gifts before the banquet.
When he noticed me, he stood and approached.
He held out his hand—an escorting gesture.
When I took it, Sioden spoke in the same low voice as before.
“I will have a coat brought.”
“…Thank you.”
He gave no reply. But his hand holding mine felt quite gentle.
Feeling that appropriate strength, I reinforced a thought I had while changing dresses: today, Sioden did not seem angry with me.
I thought I might even ask him later why he said he had something to talk about but never came to find me in the capital. It was a question I hadn’t been able to ask because he had seemed in a bad mood until now.
The first to present gifts were the vassals of Laslet.
Most of them seemed familiar with Sioden—more precisely, they seemed to have been close since the previous Lord of Laslet. The late Lord’s name was even mentioned along with their greetings.
Sioden calmly received their words, who were likely around his age or older than the previous lord.
After Laslet’s vassals, came gifts from Rowen.
Everything was excessively lavish and abundant—eye-catching in both good and bad ways.
Fayden, who represented the gift bearers, even pretended to wipe tears.
“How happy the Lord of Rowen would have been to be here. He always thought of the young lady as a child… to see her now as such a refined lady…”
Watching his overly emotional display, I almost felt as if my father had been buried beneath a gravestone.
If Laslet’s vassals had imagined the same thing, they might have been less displeased, but people could not share what was in their minds.
In the end, I had to watch the vassals of Laslet exchange glances, clearly irritated by Fayden’s words.
I glanced at Sioden, worried he might also be displeased.
But Sioden’s expression did not change much. He looked forward and said,
“The one bringing the coat is late.”
“Yes,” I replied, but before I could continue, the next turn proceeded.
“Gifts bestowed by the Imperial Family.”
Inside the box bearing the Lilitelin crest, nothing particularly stood out.
It was somewhat surprising that the long-secluded princess had sent a gift under her own name, but since she had already sent flowers before, it was not strange.
Perhaps she was preparing to resume public life.
Thinking that, I hoped this procedure would end quickly. I felt a little sorry for those who prepared the banquet, but I wanted to speak with Sioden somewhere out of sight as soon as possible.
At that time, I thought that if I could talk to Sioden alone, we might be able to clear up the misunderstandings that had accumulated.
Or perhaps even become closer.
I was filled with such hopeful thoughts.
Until the imperial attendant took something out of the large box.
It was a large, thick piece of cloth.
The tapestry, which required four people to unfold properly, depicted a scene woven with multicolored threads. In other words, it was a tapestry.
The intricately woven piece, which would have taken at least half a year to a year of continuous work since the harvest festival, depicted a wedding scene.
A southern-style outdoor wedding.
In the North, where snow never melts throughout the year, such a bright spring wedding could never take place—but that was not the problem.
Since it was a wedding, the tapestry showed a pair of man and woman standing with their backs turned. The woman had blonde hair, the man black, but the man wore a white southern wedding robe.
In the North, men wore black when marrying.
The man’s robe, seen only from behind, was embroidered with gold thread to indicate noble status.
Although the North Lord was also of high status, a young high-ranking noble in southern wedding attire brought someone else to mind.
The Crown Prince.
The fact that he was shown from behind was unusual in itself. It felt as though it was designed to leave room for interpretation.
Moreover, creating such a tapestry would require six months to a year of uninterrupted work.
Anyone familiar with the process would realize it must have been commissioned before the Emperor ordered this marriage.
The man’s black hair was likely a minimal attempt at plausible deniability.
Sioden seemed to realize this as well, his expression stiffening.
“Who sent this tapestry?”
It was a question that made even me shrink back, but the imperial attendant answered shamelessly.
“It was personally prepared by His Highness the Crown Prince.”
Fayden’s earlier words came back to me.
“I’ll send a gift that will uphold your dignity, so don’t worry too much. The Lord of Laslet should know whose woman you are.”
I had already found that extremely inappropriate, but before I could say anything, he had left.
The attendant continued,
“As a gift celebrating your marriage, and for the nostalgia of the Duchess toward her homeland, His Highness wished it to be hung in the castle at all times.”
“I see.”
His blue eyes glanced down at me.
“Please convey my thanks to His Highness.”
His voice was cold enough to drip frost, but the attendant did not retreat.
“There is one more gift from His Highness.”
He signaled to the waiting attendants behind him. Two of them brought forward a rosewood box gilded with gold.
With a heavy sound, the lid opened.
Inside was a familiar white fur coat.
