When Adrienne opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was an endlessly high ceiling.
Where am I? Did I die? Or… am I alive?
Pain throbbed across her torso. As she slowly shifted her gaze around the room, someone called out.
“Princess!”
A familiar voice. A warm hand. And a pair of relieved, brown eyes—Yuria.
I’m alive!
That was the first thought that came to Adrienne the moment she met Yuria’s gaze.
“You wouldn’t wake up. I was so worried.”
Yuria tapped Adrienne’s arm gently and signed along with her words.
[Where are we? Are we… alive?]
“Yes. We’re alive, Your Highness. This is Rantschka Fortress.”
[What? This is Rantschka?]
“Well, how else do you think we survived? The Grand Duke and the court mage just poof appeared out of nowhere!”
Maybe she’d imagined it, delirious and half-unconscious. Perhaps it hadn’t been her mother’s necklace that had flashed—but rather, magic cast by the mage of Rantschka.
[I see.]
“I really thought we were dead. But then he appeared just in time. I almost thought he was a god descending from the heavens!”
A god, really…
Watching Yuria’s excited chatter, Adrienne was finally convinced that they were truly alive. She slowly sat up from the bed, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
“Our Grand Duke really is divine in his beauty, isn’t he?”
Yuria, still laughing at her own exaggeration, turned toward the unfamiliar voice. Adrienne followed her gaze.
“I said—our Grand Duke is as beautiful as a god.”
The man who had spoken also signed his words clearly, and Adrienne’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Wow! The mage knows sign language? Princess, this is the mage I mentioned earlier. He’s the one who saved us from the monsters.”
[Thank you.]
“No need for thanks. I only did what I should as a servant of the Duke. Besides, I didn’t do it alone.”
The man spoke while signing fluidly, his expression calm and kind.
“You’re Yuria, right?”
“Yes! My name is Yuria. Yuria Tears.”
“I see. Yuria Tears. But you still call her ‘Princess.’ She’s no longer the Princess of Tehevia. She’s now the Grand Duchess of Rantschka.”
“Ah…”
“There are many ears around. Our Grand Duke may not care much for etiquette, but etiquette is etiquette.”
The man turned to Adrienne, speaking slowly and clearly while signing so she could understand.
[May I know your name, Mage?]
“You may call me Tessa, Your Grace.”
[Tessa.]
“Yes. That’s correct, Your Grace.”
Tessa smiled gently. Though the title “Your Grace” still felt foreign to her, there was something reassuring in the way he addressed her with such respect, his gaze warm and his presence calm.
Maybe life here wouldn’t be so bad after all.
After all, nowhere could be worse than Tereze Castle.
Not even when she was essentially imprisoned in Crown Castle of the Rodian Empire—that had been better than Tereze.
Her homeland, Tehevia… the place she had been born and raised, Tereze Castle… and then Crown Castle in Rodia. None of those places had ever truly been hers.
She wanted to live. To live as a human being, among other people.
Maybe here, in Rantschka, I might have a chance.
Mother…
Adrienne instinctively clutched the necklace left to her by her mother.
She was starting to understand why people called Rantschka Castle a fortress. Perched high on a cliff, it was encircled by tall stone walls that enclosed the entire structure.
[Is that the entire estate I can see from here?]
The homes below were packed tightly into terraced steps carved directly from the rock, as if they were an extension of the fortress itself.
“This wasn’t originally a place for people. After the age of dragons ended, the barbarians took over this region. In fact, many of those homes you see down there are empty.”
Adrienne turned to the side, startled by the long shadow beside her. Yuria was no longer at her side—instead, the butler, Jeord, stood nearby.
[He says many of those homes are still empty. Barbarians lived here after the dragons vanished.]
Yuria tapped Adrinne’s arm and translated Jeord’s words.
[If he speaks slowly, I can read his lips.]
“Her Grace reads lips. So if you could speak just a bit slower, Butler.”
“Ah… of course, Your Grace.”
Jeord was a tall, lean man with a sharp gaze. His face didn’t give off an air of warmth, but he was one of the few people here with whom Adrienne could communicate.
Aside from Yuria, only the mage Tessa and Jeord were able to converse with her directly.
The servants didn’t need to speak with someone who couldn’t hear or talk—as long as Yuria was there, they simply went about their duties in silence.
So in reality, only Tessa and Jeord ever visited her.
It had already been seven nights since she arrived here.
And still, Adrienne had not once seen Lukas.
She had been abandoned by her father. And now, it seemed… she might be abandoned by her husband too.
Anyone could see the truth. The lord of this castle had no intention of welcoming his wife.
No, “unwelcoming” isn’t even the right word. If he won’t spare me a glance, maybe he finds me burdensome… or worse, repulsive.
Yuria insisted otherwise, but the knights and servants within the fortress spoke freely of her.
Of course, she couldn’t hear their words clearly, so she couldn’t be sure. But she could sense it. In their glances. In their tones.
It’s just paranoia.
Still, the determination Adrienne had carried—to start anew in a new place with a new heart—was slowly withering.
Maybe there’s nowhere that will welcome a useless mute like me.
The cold reality was crushing her spirit.
“This land is mostly home to criminals and those who ran for their lives.”
“What? They accepted people like that into the estate?”
Jeord was explaining calmly to Adrienne, but it was Yuria who cried out in shock.
“They’re called criminals, but most of their ‘crimes’ were invented by the nobles.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean… they were people who fled because they had no other choice.”
Adrienne nodded slowly, understanding. Yuria, however, tilted her head, confused. Jeord narrowed his eyes ever so slightly at her.
[Then management must be crucial.]
“What did she say?”
“She said… management would be important.”
Startled by Jeord’s sharp gaze, Yuria flinched and shrank back.
“Yes, Your Grace. That’s why we inspect every new arrival thoroughly.”
Jeord’s sharp eyes softened slightly. Adrienne gave him a faint smile in return.
[Um… about the Grand Duke… no, never mind.]
“Your Grace?”
Adrienne shook her head quickly. Jeord’s eyes shifted to Yuria.
“She was asking how the Grand Duke is doing.”
Yuria grinned at Adrienne mischievously, and her cheeks flushed bright red in embarrassment.
“The barbarians frequently raid the area, so His Grace is out almost every day inspecting the estate with the knights. Today is no different.”
Adrienne nodded, having read his lips. As she did, Jeord continued.
“He’ll return before nightfall. And tomorrow, he won’t be going out on inspection.”
He looked at her closely, as if waiting for a response.
[Understood.]
“I’ll make arrangements for the two of you to have dinner together this evening.”
[Oh—no, that’s not what I meant…]
Before she could clarify, Jeord gave a courteous bow and turned away.
What do I do now…?
Her face turned crimson all over again.
“You can’t avoid him forever.”
[But still…]
“If you keep seeing him, you’ll get used to him. And once you’re used to him, maybe you’ll finally have your wedding night. I mean, really—who goes off to battle on their wedding day? If the barbarians hadn’t attacked, you’d probably have an heir by now.”
[Yuria, please. I swear, you live to tease me.]
“Don’t be silly, Your Grace. I live to see you happy.”
[Yuria…]
“Stop worrying. There’s no way this could be worse than being locked up in northern Tereze Castle. Right now, you’re standing in the open air, with the wind on your face, looking down at the world.”
She was right.
Right now, Adrienne could go anywhere she wanted. This life was already far better than being imprisoned in Tereze or Crown Castle.
Well—granted, life in Crown Castle had been better than in Tereze, at least. She’d been allowed to walk the gardens and explore the halls.
[Thank you, Yuria.]
[You’re very welcome, Your Grace.]
Yuria smiled brightly and responded with signs alone.
Just as the sun began to sink low on the horizon, Lukas returned to the fortress.
Leading seven knights, he rode into the courtyard. His expression, as always, was hard and cold.
“You’ve returned, Your Grace.”
“Jeord. Was everything quiet while I was gone?”
“Yes, sir. We only prayed for your safe return.”
“Hmph. You’re getting better at flattery.”
For a fleeting moment, a faint smile brushed Lukas’s lips—then vanished as quickly as it came.
“You flatter me, Your Grace. You must be hungry. Shall we prepare dinner?”
“I’ll take off my armor and come down.”
Lukas handed his helmet to the waiting attendant and strode past Jeord.
As he passed by, Jeord watched him, a faint glimmer of amusement flickering in his sharp eyes.
