“It seemed too far. I thought you might not be able to read my lips from there.”
Unlike the last time, when they had sat at opposite ends of a long table, Lukas now sat with Adrienne across the wide side, facing her.
Close—close enough for her to clearly make out the movement of his lips, just as he said.
“We can’t have a conversation while eating and writing at the same time, so if I ask something, just nod or shake your head in response.”
So he was planning to ask questions. What sort of questions, though?
“Do you agree?”
That must be the first one. Not that she really had a choice either way. Adrienne nodded at Lukas.
Ding-ling-ling.
Lukas rang the bell, and two maids entered the dining hall. They began laying out dishes on the white tablecloth-covered table.
“Don’t return until I call for you.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“As you wish, Your Grace.”
At his command, the maids bowed and exited the room.
“Have a taste. It may not be as grand as what you had at Tereze Castle, but I made an effort.”
Lukas spoke after sipping from his water glass. Just because she had come from Tereze Castle—and had once been a princess—people assumed she’d lived a life of abundance.
Of course, few even in Tehevia knew what really went on inside the castle. They didn’t know she had been confined, denied freedom, and lived constantly under the threat of the new queen. All they knew was that her standing had diminished ever since the birth of the queen’s son.
But contrary to those assumptions, ever since her mother’s death and the loss of her voice, Adrienne had ceased to have any real place in Tereze Castle.
“Do you like the food here?”
Adrienne was not a picky eater. Even in the side palace at Tereze, she had never truly enjoyed grand meals. She looked at Lukas and nodded.
“That’s good.”
Lukas shrugged casually.
[…]
She expected more questions, but contrary to her thoughts, Lukas simply focused on his meal after that.
Just in case, Adrienne kept her eyes on his lips as she ate, prepared for any sudden inquiry.
“We need to establish some kind of signal.”
[…]
“I said, we need a signal. You can barely eat because you’re too busy watching my lips.”
Of course it would be frustrating.
Seeing the crease forming between Lucas’s brows, Adrienne let out a quiet sigh in her mind.
Not being able to hear or speak was a huge barrier to communication—especially for someone like Lukas, who wasn’t used to it.
“Were you born unable to speak?”
Adrienne shook her head.
“If it was acquired later in life, couldn’t it be cured?”
She shook her head again. Her father, Daphil, had gone to great lengths to try to “fix” her. He summoned priests from Ascro’s Great Temple and grand magicians to use magical healing, and even brought in renowned foreign healers.
But none of it worked. She could never return to how she was before. So she learned sign language thoroughly and trained herself to read people’s lips.
Around that time, Daphil had stopped seeking her out entirely. The next time Adrienne saw him was the day before her wedding to Lukas.
Exactly six years later.
“Win him over. So that you can secure your future. That’s how you prove you’re of any use.”
Of use…
Those words still stung like a thorn lodged deep. Or rather, what hurt even more was the look in his eyes when he said it.
To see her father again after six years—only to hear that—on the eve of a marriage that felt like a sale… It had been cruel.
I’ll try to become someone useful, but not to secure my future.
Adrienne didn’t intend to win Lukas over to her side.
Rather—she had already decided to stand by his side.
Clatter.
Just as that thought settled in her mind, Lukas abruptly stood up without warning and strode out of the dining hall. Adrienne, startled, quickly rose to follow.
“The horn sounded.”
A maid standing outside the door spoke with a terrified look.
Barbarians.
Adrienne’s expression hardened.
They had said the barbarians became more aggressive as the harsh season approached. With food harder to come by, and the tribes scattered without strong leaders, desertions increased. Before winter set in, they would go all out to breach the castle.
It had already been three months since Adrienne came to Rantschka from Crown Castle. In those three months, there had been two attacks from the barbarians—both within this very month.
“Your Highness, look—it’s the Black Order. They’re returning to the castle.”
Yuria, nudging Adrienne’s arm, pointed out the window. Following her finger, Adrienne saw the knights entering the gates in a long line.
[I should go to the infirmary.]
She hadn’t even sat down all day—pacing endlessly back and forth. Adrienne threw on a robe and left the room.
“You’re very late, Your Highness.”
It was a deep night, the full moon floating alone in the sky. But wounded knights needed care—regardless of night or day.
Despite Yuria’s concern, Adrienne hurried her steps. The battle hadn’t lasted long, but that didn’t mean no one had gotten hurt.
“Your Highness.”
[Are there many injured?]
On the way to the infirmary, she ran into Jeord. Forgetting for a moment that he couldn’t sign, Adrienne gestured to ask. Jeord, confused, glanced at Yuria.
“She’s asking if there are many injured knights.”
“Ah—no, Your Highness. Just in case, we had already reinforced the watchtowers. Given the season, we were expecting it.”
[I see. That’s a relief.]
“His Grace is also unharmed.”
Adrienne exhaled in quiet relief, and Jeord smiled softly.
“Don’t worry about things here, Your Highness. It’s late. Please get some rest.”
[Thank you, Jeord.]
“Sleep well, Your Highness.”
With a courteous bow, Jeord departed. Adrienne smiled faintly and turned to head back.
Thank goodness…
She tossed and turned for some time, but eventually fell asleep. Curled tightly on her side, Adrienne’s face was bathed in the pale light of the full moon.
“…”
Someone was watching.
There was no need for stealth, and yet the visitor deliberately held his breath as he looked down at her.
“What’s there to hesitate for?”
A drowsy voice laced with alcohol. The voice’s owner slowly sat on the edge of the bed.
That moment—rustle. Adrienne stirred awake. Her breath floated in the air, and with it, the fear inside her.
“It’s me. Lukas.”
Leaning toward the window, he whispered softly. Her trembling eyes began to settle at the sight of his familiar face.
“I can’t sleep, Adrienne.”
She frowned faintly. Her gaze, of course, was fixed on his lips. Lukas mirrored her, scowling back.
“You’re my wife.”
Lukas murmured, suddenly leaning in toward her.
He looked like he was trying hard to make her read his lips—but the shadows of night made it difficult to see them clearly.
“I don’t care.”
There was a trace of irritation in his voice.
“You’re my wife. And if I want to hold you, I can—whenever I please.”
He suddenly grabbed her wrist. Adrienne recoiled in shock, but the motion caused her to fall backward onto the bed.
“The smell of blood is everywhere. No matter how much I scrub, I can’t get rid of the stench—those damned barbarians’ blood drives me mad.”
[…]
“I need you.”
Lukas whispered, voice hoarse, as he gripped her chin.
Mmph—…
Adrienne nearly fainted from the shock of his wet tongue pressing into her mouth. His solid frame pinned her down, and his tongue explored her as if trying to swallow every part of her. Her eyes, wide with panic, slowly fluttered shut beneath trembling lids.
She was terrified. Her heart raced with fear and dread.
But she told herself to endure it.
Lukas Ken Rahel.
He was her husband.
And yet—
Adrienne couldn’t quite believe this was truly happening to her.
Please…
She didn’t even know what she was pleading for. But her heart cried out over and over again.
That he would stop.
Or that this would end quickly.
Or else…
Gasp!
A large hand slipped beneath her nightgown and seized her chest.
At that moment, Adrienne’s thoughts collapsed.
She couldn’t think anymore.
