Chapter 61. Can You Handle It
“Promise me.”
Delia’s breath caught under the weight of Aaron’s deep longing.
Panting, she finally forced out a sound.
“…Alright.”
Before Aaron could try to paint her again.
Before Aaron could pounce to seize the portrait for himself.
She felt she had to place the portrait into his hands.
“I’ll let you paint my portrait.”
At Delia’s reluctant consent, Aaron’s eyes softened as he curved them into a smile.
“You’ve made the right choice.”
He whispered faintly and pressed his lips, which had been hovering dangerously close, onto hers.
Aaron softly sucked in her lower lip, damp and flushed even redder, parting it just enough to slip inside.
He swept through every corner, searching for what he wanted.
Between the slow strokes brushing against her wet inner lips, thin moans melted out.
Their mingled breaths grew wetter, more tangled.
He wanted to feel more of her before letting her go.
The kitten-like cries she made with every shiver.
The blue eyes clouded and wet.
The sweet fragrance woven into her gasping breath.
All those things that could never be captured in a portrait.
He wanted to savor them more deeply.
Just as Aaron’s movements, swallowed up by intense desire, were about to grow fiercer—
Crash.
A sharp shattering sound tore between them.
Clop, clop, clop.
Four horses pounded forward, manes streaming in the wind.
A carriage bearing the royal crest stopped in front of the Fitcern atelier.
In the dead-quiet workshop, the sound of the carriage door opening rang unnaturally loud.
From the open door, the hem of a refined gown spilled downward.
With the coachman’s aid, the Queen stepped down and surveyed the sleeping atelier.
The eerie quiet seeped into her skin, raising goosebumps.
But the Queen did not stop.
She gripped her dress hem tighter and strode forward.
Her shoes pressed down upon the wildflowers Delia had stepped on just moments before.
From the crushed blossoms wafted a distorted fragrance.
Her steps across the atelier garden did not last long—someone blocked her way.
“Haha. Greetings. We meet the Queen of Iorenti.”
Collin’s awkward greeting rang out loudly in the garden.
Dyke, scrambling to clean up the broken marble pieces, followed with his own bow.
“We greet the Queen of Iorenti.”
Queen Eleanor’s gaze sank deep as she received their greetings.
The ones before her were imperial soldiers—expected, yet she had wished they wouldn’t be.
And not just any soldiers, but the commander’s closest aides.
Her voice sharpened instinctively as she questioned:
“Why are the two of you here?”
As she spoke, her eyes swept the area.
Had they even threatened and driven out the atelier members?
Anger flared in her gaze as she glared at Collin and Dyke.
“Your Majesty, we didn’t know the beautiful Queen herself would visit here.”
At Collin’s frivolous reply, the Queen’s voice grew sharper.
“I am not asking about my visit—I am asking why you are here.”
This time Dyke answered.
“By order of the Commander, we are here regarding the peace between Iorenti and Stilleitz—”
As he explained, his eyes darted briefly toward Meredith, standing behind the Queen like a guilty child caught in the act.
Realizing they had already been exposed, Dyke’s voice dwindled smaller and smaller.
“…for the sake of peace…”
“And what business do imperial soldiers have in an Iorenti atelier for the sake of peace?”
“Ah, that’s—”
As Collin and Dyke floundered desperately for an answer, a saving voice came from behind them.
“Mother.”
Delia had rushed out of the atelier building and now stood before the Queen.
Perhaps from running, or perhaps from being caught doing something else, she panted heavily.
“What brings you here?”
“That is what I should be asking.”
The Queen gripped her dress hem tightly, suppressing the surge of emotions.
“What are you doing here, Delia? You always hated coming to the atelier.”
“Ah… I had some things to think about.”
The Queen gazed quietly at her daughter.
Her voice trembled like a child caught misbehaving.
“What thoughts bring you here?”
“I was considering… whether to have my portrait painted.”
“Your portrait? You’ve always refused without question—why suddenly now?”
“Yes. After enduring these difficult times, I’ve been feeling restless…”
Delia nervously twisted a strand of hair around her finger, guilt gnawing at her.
She hadn’t wanted to worry her mother.
She should have waited just a little longer, resisted just a bit more.
She should have only stayed briefly and left.
But the comfort he gave was so sweet she forgot the time.
Eyes downcast, Delia avoided her mother’s gaze, steeped in regret.
“Then why didn’t you tell me? I could have summoned a skilled painter to the palace.”
“Ah… I wasn’t sure yet. I was curious about how the royal-sponsored artists work. I thought seeing other works might help me decide.”
Aaron smoothly took over her faltering excuse.
“Since Her Highness was troubled, I persuaded her to come here.”
Delia turned, startled at his sudden appearance.
Aaron approached slowly, coming to stand protectively behind her.
It felt reassuring, yet at the same time worrying.
She had begged him to stay hidden, to not provoke her mother’s anger.
But Aaron ignored her request and stepped forward without hesitation before the Queen.
“As royalty of Iorenti, I believed it was necessary to leave a record, so I persuaded her.”
Aaron spoke calmly while draping a cloak around Delia’s shoulders—something she hadn’t noticed in her fluster.
Embarrassed, Delia tried to twist away from his protective gesture.
But Aaron gently pressed her slender shoulders, drawing her back to him.
“No matter how much she dislikes it, isn’t it a problem for a royal to have no portrait at all?”
Though his hand rested on Delia’s shoulder, his eyes never left the Queen.
Watching him, Delia realized—
His patience had reached its limit.
He no longer intended to meet her in secret, hiding away.
Caught between them, Delia looked helplessly from her mother to Aaron.
“It was quite difficult persuading the Princess, given how much she dislikes portraits.”
Aaron’s words to the Queen were followed by a sidelong glance at Delia.
Her hair was still in disarray, strands sticking out from being pressed against the sofa earlier.
The sharp shattering sound had snapped them back to reality.
In their rush, Aaron had quickly helped her dress properly, straightening her collar and tying her ribbon, even wiping her lips clean with his handkerchief.
But there had been no time to fix her hair.
Tsk.
Aaron had realized it then—it was impossible not to leave traces.
Meeting in secret did not suit him at all.
Maybe he should simply claim her openly instead.
Reaching out, Aaron carefully smoothed her golden strands one by one.
“Fortunately, Her Highness has agreed to leave a portrait.”
“And why should the Commander of the Empire concern himself with such things?”
“Because I am not just the Commander—I am her future husband.”
The Queen’s expression froze in disbelief at Aaron’s bold declaration.
That wolf didn’t even bother hiding his actions.
To caress Delia with such hungry eyes, to display his possessive desire so plainly—even the Queen could feel the heat of it.
A weary sigh escaped her lips.
“Haa…”
She should be furious.
Yet, even at his defiant gaze, she could not unleash her anger.
Did he even know how he looked?
His uniform was neatly in place, his smile smooth and charming as ever.
But—
His silver hair was a mess, disheveled to an unsightly degree.
The glint of light on the tangled strands was dizzying.
Yet his careful hand was focused only on tidying Delia’s hair, treating it with more care than his own.
As if she were more precious than himself.
The Queen’s fury found nowhere to go.
“…Del.”
Delia bowed her head at her mother’s call.
Her daughter’s cheeks were flushed pink, like a child caught with her first secret love.
The Queen’s voice softened, moist with emotion.
“So, you’ve decided to have the portrait painted?”
“Yes.”
The Queen silently studied her bowed daughter.
In this side of Delia she seldom saw, she felt her child’s inner struggle.
She must have suffered deeply, torn between Iorenti and Stilleitz, enough to swallow poison herbs.
Suppressing herself, worn from watching both her parents and the Commander.
But Delia…
From now on, such struggles would only increase.
Would you truly be able to bear it?
The Queen swallowed her rising unease and spoke.
“It’s fortunate you’ve decided, even now.”
Her voice turned calmer, gentler.
Startled by the sudden change, Delia lifted her head toward her.
“Mother…”
In that moment, Delia knew.
Her mother had chosen to overlook the situation.
Not wanting to waste the chance, Delia swatted lightly at Aaron’s hand above her head.
After sneaking him a sideways glance, she stepped quickly to her mother’s side.
“Yes, Mother. Did I worry you by being away? I’m sorry for making you anxious.”
She clung to the Queen’s arm affectionately, trying to draw her attention.
Before Aaron revealed too much, she had to get her mother back to the palace.
“Since you always stop by here, I was curious and came to see as well. Now that the matter of the portrait is decided, let’s return to the palace.”
Even at her daughter’s playful excuses, the Queen only gazed at her silently.
“Please, Mother, recommend the painter for my portrait.”
Delia kept chattering to break the awkward mood.
“Did you speak well with the Fitcern members? If we filled the palace with the works you love, it would be far more beautiful.”
Perhaps her effort to reassure her mother worked.
The Queen’s lips, long sealed, finally parted in a gentle call.
“…Delia.”
Softly, the Queen repeated her daughter’s name.
Her blushing cheeks bloomed like spring flowers.
Her blue eyes glistened transparently with moisture.
The Queen stroked her radiant cheeks tenderly.
“…Delia.”
