A Marriage Alliance for Revenge - Chapter 47

It was the middle of the night, a silent moonlit night. 

Beyond the window, the moonlight shining through was akin to a river of galaxies.

“The wolf, awakened from a long slumber, walked and walked again, surrendering itself to the moonlight shining from the sky.”

“‥‥‥.”

“Passing through spring and summer, through the autumn, when all life enters a restful state until winter comes, the black wolf walked and walked again.”

Filling the room illuminated only by moonlight was Lucas’s soft voice.

Briella’s excited breaths followed Lucas’s voice.

Lucas’s chest fluttered with Briella’s breaths.

Setting down the book he held, Lucas gazed at Briella intently.

His hand, hovering in the air, gently settled on Briella’s chest.

Pat, pat.

Briella’s breaths, once hurried, gradually calmed under his touch.

As her breathing eased, Lucas picked up the storybook once more.

The faded and tattered storybook was barely recognizable with its worn-out pages.

Holding the long-neglected book, Lucas read slowly in a deep, resonant voice.

“What is this voice?”

Lost in the darkness, Briella, who had been wandering, was drawn to the familiar voice.

Fear and sadness pressed upon her heart, but Lucas’s voice was a guiding light.

Gradually, Briella’s consciousness began to awaken.

“Who?”

“And finally, on a day when the moonlight formed a river, the black wolf arrived at a hill where golden roses bloomed.”

Briella blinked slowly.

A lone candle placed by the bedside illuminated the darkness. 

Taking advantage of that dim light, Lucas read the book to Briella.

It was the kind of book one would read to a child.

“Are you awake?”

Staring blankly at the ceiling, Briella slowly nodded at Lucas’s voice.

“They said the inflammation was severe, compounded by a cold.”

She wanted to respond, but only a hoarse sound escaped her dry throat.

Sensing Briella’s condition, Lucas helped her up.

His large hand enveloped her shoulder, and a soft cushion was placed behind her.

“Slowly…”

Handing a lukewarm cup of water to her lips, Lucas spoke.

Only after finishing the cup did her thirst begin to quench.

“How much time has passed?”

“It has not been a day, so there is no need to worry.”

At Lucas’s words, Briella looked around the room.

She was on the large bed she had seen and hesitated to approach during the day.

“Goodness.”

Briella took a deep breath.

She had avoided it so much, yet here they were, sitting side by side.

The experience felt surprisingly new.

“Is there any discomfort?”

“None.”

Her voice was more composed than she had anticipated.

Her previous worries about showing dismay toward the idea of lying together seemed trivial.

“Shall I bring you some food?”

“No.”

Briella shook her head.

Despite just waking up from sleep, drowsiness was inexplicably pouring over her.

“Sleeping evidently, took precedence over hunger.”

That was quite understandable.

The time spent alone in the deserted palace without Lucas must have been challenging.

Moreover, given the events in Perta, it was no wonder her body felt weary.

“Perhaps more sleep would be advisable.”

At Lucas’s words, Briella awkwardly glanced around.

It wasn’t odd to lie beside him when she was unconscious, but now, lying down next to Lucas to sleep felt strange.

“Oops!”

“For now, it would be best not to think of anything and just rest.”

As Lucas removed the pillow, Briella’s body shifted backward.

Briella’s eyes widened as she found herself staring at the ceiling in a split second.

“Phew-“

Lucas gently extinguished the flickering candle.

Soon, the room was engulfed in darkness.

Apart from the moonlight shining through the curtains forming a river, darkness prevailed.

“A gulp.”

Unconsciously, Briella swallowed her breath.

As her eyes rolled, she saw Lucas’s broad back.

With each breath, his massive back rose and fell like a mountain.

Besides the sound of their breathing, nothing else could be heard.

Turning to look at Lucas’s back, Briella shifted her body with a rustle.

The two of them perfectly leaned against each other.

‘Oh dear. Would I have felt less lonely if you were by my side?’

Caressing her dull stomach, Briella curled her body.

“The wolf that reached the hill rested its weary body.”

At the sudden sound of Lucas’s voice, Briella opened her eyes that she had closed.

“Oh…”

Unconsciously holding her breath, Briella focused on Lucas’s voice.

The cold night air gradually warmed up, enveloping the warmth within.

Not the warmth of a person’s body, but the warmth enveloped in the voice wrapped around the two in the room.

“A white snowflake drifted down upon the tired wolf. The wolf, feeling the cold touch, opened its eyes and gazed up at the sky.”

“…”

“Reaching the moon from the closest point in the sky, the weary wolf, exhausted and weak, could not reach the moon.”

“I shouldn’t sleep.”

However, against Briella’s will, her heavy eyelids were gradually closing.

Finally, Lucas closed his mouth at the rhythmic breathing felt from behind.

“Childlike.”

It was a fairytale that had been read over several times until it was completely memorized.

The one who read this fairytale by young Lucas’s bedside was  the late Empress, his grandmother.

His mother loved this palace where yellow ginger flowers bloomed in spring.

“Phew.”

Lucas took a deep breath.

The sharp scent of ginger mixed subtly with a sweet fragrance.

Unconsciously, Lucas stiffened his shoulders.

Feeling Briella’s presence asleep with a snore behind him suddenly became vivid.

“Hmm.”

Lucas, who cleared his throat while watching the sleeping lady, tensed his body stiffly.

His mind grew hazy with each breath mingling with Briella’s scent.

“Absurd.”

Lucas squeezed his eyes shut.

Lucas’s face flushed red in the moonlight.

 

 

* * *

 

“Your countenance is quite pleasing, Lady Viterpan.”

“It is but by His Majesty’s grace.”

Eve, who met with Briella at the Rose Palace, sighed as she gazed at her.

Despite the sun reaching its zenith, Eve was still clad in her morning gown.

“His Majesty was late leaving his bedchamber…”

Eve hinted, adjusting her gown.

“I didn’t ask.”

With a curt expression, Briella sat down, and a maid approached, filling her cup with tea.

As the rich rose fragrance wafted up, Briella’s face creased for a moment.

“Is the tea not to your liking?”

Eve, in her morning gown, approached and lifted a cup of tea.

“Hmm. It’s made from dried roses in May. They say it’s worth its weight in gold outside.”

“It’s the nobles trying to impress Lady Eve unnecessarily by inflating the value.”

Briella gestured for the tea to be passed. 

“What?!”

“Serving tea appropriately according to people and places is a matter of etiquette and refinement. Frankly, it seems Lady Eve doesn’t particularly enjoy rose tea.”

At Briella’s words, Eve, holding the teacup, flinched.

“Given the winter, fruit tea with quinces or ginger, something warm, might be more suitable. Please prepare it.”

In response to Briella’s words, the maid hesitated, glancing at Eve.

“…Prepare it.”

As Eve spoke, the maid swiftly rose to action.

Soon, warm lemon tea was placed between the two.

“I heard that Count Delevingne is entering the capital today?”

“Yes, that is the news.”

Stirring the lemon tea, Eve gazed out the window.

Though a sharp wind blew, the weather outside was clear.

Scattered clouds under the blue sky were as beautiful as a painting.

“Count Delevingne is a prominent figure among the neutral nobles. Quite a few nobles follow him.”

“I know the genealogy of the nobility by heart.”

Eve’s teacup was quickly emptied, thankful for the lemon tea.

The fireplace had a steady stream of wood burning in it, but it couldn’t keep out all the chill of winter.

“Then you won’t be able to sit here so carefree.”

“Hmph, having neutral nobles visit the palace doesn’t change anything, Duchess Viterpan.”

“‥‥‥.”

Lady Eve’s words stunned Briella into silence, and she listened in silence.

The skeptical look on Briella’s face was enough to pique her curiosity.

“They seek His Majesty, the Emperor, and the Empress, while I am left merely watching from my gilded cage, observing them through the window.”

Eve smiled self-deprecatingly and looked at Briella.

“You chose this path for yourself; can you truly blame others?”

“Have I spoken incorrectly?”

There was no hint of pretense on Briella’s face as she spoke.

In contrast to Eve’s somewhat agitated tone, Briella’s voice remained remarkably calm.

She was certainly unlike the nobles before her, who fawned and flattered to gain her favor.

“You are mistaken!”

“What do you mean?”

Eve clenched her teeth.

She wished to respond with eloquence, yet found herself at a loss for words.

The fact that she was an unrecognized mistress was known to all in the Ron Empire.

“You’ve aged quite a bit overnight, Duchess of Bitterpan.”

“Such is the nature of being newlywed.”

A resounding defeat.

Eve felt an unspeakable sense of defeat as she looked at Briella, her tiredness evident in her face as the sunlight swept across her face.

Despite her deliberate choice to greet her in a gown, Briella didn’t seem particularly offended.

Eve felt only a sense of shame in the cold gaze cast downward.

Unknowingly, Eve adjusted her gown.

As Eve observed Briella, who was revealing her fatigue while brushing her face with the bright sunlight, an inexplicable sense of defeat washed over her.

Despite having deliberately donned a gown to greet her, Briella did not appear the least bit displeased.

Instead, the icy gaze cast downward made Eve acutely aware of her own embarrassment.

Unconsciously, Eve loosened her gown.

“Before the hunting tournament, we will be selecting noble ladies to assist with the festival.”

At Briella’s words, Eve silently nodded in agreement.

“I intend to choose from all factions—Imperial, noble, and neutral alike. Do you have any objections?”

“None.”

Briella regarded Eve with surprise at her unexpected response.

Count Delevingne was the last noble to enter the capital.

As Briella glanced at the list that Countess Lawrence had compiled without a moment’s rest, she noted Eve’s gaze fixed out the window, her lips tightly pressed in anger.

“Lady Eve.”

“What is it?”

“Count Delevingne is currently presenting himself to His Majesty.”

“And?”

Eve questioned sharply, her irritation evident in her tone.

Though she was venting her frustration at Briella, no one dared to point this out.

“It appears that Count Delevingne’s daughter has also entered the palace.”

Briella’s gaze shifted from the documents to the steward of the Rose Pavilion.

“The daughter of Count Delevingne?”

“Yes.”

The steward replied cautiously.

“Did the Count have a daughter?”

This was the moment when Eve’s claim of knowing the noble lineage was proven false.

“Hmm…”

Even at Briella’s sigh, Eve remained oblivious to what had gone wrong.

She merely rolled a large gold coin in her hand, pressing the steward for answers.

‘Why has his daughter, who was always sheltered within the estate, suddenly come here?’

A flicker of unease crossed Briella’s deep forest-green eyes.

“His Majesty, after receiving the Count, inquired about whether the Countess might stay in the Rose Pavilion during the Count’s time at the palace.”

“What did he say?”

“He mentioned that since the Duchess Viterpan is also present, it would make for a good companionship.”

As the steward wiped the sweat from his brow, his words trailed off.

‘Why is Gusto suddenly…?’

Briella too was taken aback by the unexpected turn of events.

“Did His Majesty personally recommend that she stay in the Rose Pavilion?”

Eve, seemingly struggling to comprehend the situation, questioned the steward once more.

“Yes.”

“It seems we must hasten preparations for our guests.”

Leaving the flustered Eve behind, Briella took charge.

She ushered Eve, still clad in her gown, into the restroom and summoned maids to tidy the reception area.

“Remove the high seats and replace the table with a round one. Ensure all the chairs are of uniform height.”

At Briella’s command, the maids and attendants moved swiftly.

Though the steward of the Rose Pavilion frowned slightly, he soon nodded in agreement.

Once Countess Lawrence joined them, news arrived that Count Delevingne’s daughter had reached the Rose Pavilion.

“What on earth!”

Eve, freshly adorned with the help of the maids, surveyed the transformed reception room with a furrowed brow.

Typically seated at the head of the table, she now found it difficult to discern where the seat of honor lay with the new round table arrangement.

“If there were a seat of honor, it would not have been yours, Lady Eve, but mine. Should you wish to change that now, shall I ask the Countess Delevingne to wait?”

At Briella’s words, Eve pouted and plopped down into her seat.

A maid hurried over to arrange the hem of her dress.

Briella took a seat beside her.

Knock, knock.

Upon hearing the knock, Eve replied with indifference, “Let them in.”

As the door opened, the first thing visible was the sky-blue hem of a dress.

The Countess Delevingne, seemingly anxious, walked with measured steps, her head bowed, embodying the transition from girlhood to womanhood.

“I am Rose Delevingne, the little flower of the Delevain estate.”

“Gasp!”

As the Delevingne heiress looked up from her curtsey, Eve inhaled sharply, taken aback.