Story & Art : Kumiko d'Primato
Editor: Kenji Sato
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I had turned twenty when my parents died in a carriage accident. I cried and cried. The last time I saw them, they insisted I had to guard our manor and Zanad.
They were on their way to plead for leniency from the bank. They insisted on leaving even though the storm had lasted for days. The wheels slipped on the wet road; the horse panicked, rampaged, flipped the carriage, and trampled them.
I shouldn't have let them go out in the rain!
I was the first to know when the horse returned alone.
The land holdings went to auction, as I would never be able to pay their debt, and the papers of Aurelienne's ownership passed into another noble's hands.
Their funeral had a few attendees, and the duke came briefly to offer his condolences. The priest gave a short eulogy; I had half-expected that he would make more of an effort to show some decency, but it was as if fallen barons were less than commoners.
None of my relatives wanted to take me in, understandably because they didn't want to inherit my debt. They said, "You've matured enough for marriage."
"Yes, my dear aunts," I said. "Thank you for your concern, because I've been betrothed to the duke."
"Oh—" My relatives hid their amusement. "Ahem, then we shall look forward to receiving the invitation."
Over the next visits, the duke came twice a month, as always, but it was the first time he wanted to see if we were compatible romantically. He reached for my hand, grasped me, but suddenly withdrew.
Zanad seemed to dislike it; he accidentally broke a teacup as he brought us refreshments.
The next visit, the duke and I tried to kiss, but he turned around and gasped. I had thought it was my bad breath, as he left in a hurry. But I blew air to my palm many times and found nothing wrong with the smell.
Another visit, another day, yet he still postponed any talk of marriage.
Zanad, who had been careful not to be seen, tried to stay far from us. But that day he warned me, "Genevra, dur'na. That man is dangerous. Let's run."
I looked at him, surprised. "You speak my language, after all!"
"Run away with me, far from here."
"I can't. My parents' memories are within this place."
Zanad looked away. He had grown taller a bit, and his face was all red when he said it.
"And you can't either, you know it's dangerous outside."
Then I convinced him that, "As a married woman, everything would soon fall into place. Our life would be much easier if I were the duchess."
I sighed. Because evidently the duke was reluctant to talk about anything related to marriage.
Should I ask him first?
The next visit, he passed me a piece of paper. A letter.
I read it. "What's this—?"
"What I would do if you agreed to be my wife this weekend."
"That's too sudden!"
"My lady, I have many responsibilities to take care of, so if you will, the manor shall be in your name and your title intact."
"Not as the duchess?"
"I believe it was best for both of us, as this marriage would keep our rights in place, where we belong."
I nodded, even if I didn't fully comprehend what he meant—that I would retain what was mine and he what was his; thus, the need for this nuptial letter. Which meant that he wouldn't be responsible for my debt, either.
"Kindly let me think for a moment—"
"There's no time to think; I will pay part of your debts, enough to guarantee that the bank will never take over the manor. I would also cover your monthly spending, but there are conditions."
"What about—?" I couldn't bring myself to say it out loud. "Our marital duty?"
"I believe that's within my right to decide when, why, or how, as a husband."
I was speechless as my ears burned. "Yes, that's fine. I would marry you."
I wanted to keep Zanad safe in my manor. But Zanad broke another teacup from a distance.
The wedding day came, which had been only three days after we had signed the prenuptial letter. I had not questioned why he rushed it; I thought that this was typical for arranged marriages.
The duke sent a carriage to my manor.
I wore the dress he had provided; it wasn't my size, as it was way larger, but I had stitched it the best I could, so at least it would fit my waist and not fall from my shoulder.
Zanad couldn't attend my wedding for his safety; I'd noticed he'd been behaving oddly after he asked me to run away with him. He wouldn't speak and only watched me from a distance.
My carriage arrived at the destination, and the space around me stilled; perhaps because I was alone by myself.
If only Mother and Father were here with me, the carriage would be full with our gowns, and Father would be careful not to step on them.
"A true Aurelienne never gives up."
I missed them so much.
I looked up and dried my eye makeup; I couldn't let it smear and ruin my face. I stepped down, and the carriage coach helped me descend the stairs, as my large gown got tangled in my shoes.
The wedding was hurried, and there was nothing grand about it. The Royal Chaplain had not officiated the ceremony. In fact, it was the same priest who had performed my parents' funeral, in a chapel, on the capital's outskirts.
And as it was so sudden, only a few relatives came. Perhaps the duke, too, had financial difficulties.
I tried to brush my worries aside, as none of the royal family attended our wedding.
The duke stood firm at the altar, fair-haired and neat, handsome in his knightly armor. Not in a wedding suit.
Was I disappointed?
I shook my head; we had not been in love, and we barely talked about anything. But he was the kingdom's hero and the duke.
What could have been so terrible about him? I couldn't find any at that time.
I just recalled that both my parents had given him their approval. I had believed that love would come, surely.
I took the step moving toward him.
The priest pronounced our names, and we exchanged our rings.
"Genevra Dauphin of Aurelienne."
"Konstantin Alexander, Duke of Sankt Arlen."
He then gave me a peck on the lips; turned around and wiped it quickly.
After the brief, halfhearted ceremony, without blooms, he excused himself from the banquet. It was located at the nearest eatery to the chapel; he said duty was calling him and that he would visit me at night. My relatives looked at me, wondering why the groom was absent from his own celebration. None of his knights or peers attended it either.
I had many things filling up my mind; most of them weren't so encouraging. Perhaps, he needed a bride to gain some sort of inheritance. Or, perhaps he had loved someone else, but they couldn't marry for some reason.
I shook my head. Why would the duke marry me?
At dusk, he returned to my manor with one of his knights. I foolishly pushed my worries aside and welcomed them. Still in my oversize gown, I attended to him and my guest, reheating what I'd brought from the banquet and opened the secret wine Father coveted from Mother's allowance.
We had a quiet dinner, but the three of us had a laugh after a few glasses of wine.
The duke, my husband, said, "It's far too late for traveling, and the manor has many rooms to accommodate our guest."
He looked at the knight. "I hope you don't mind staying."
The knight coughed for a good minute; red wine stained his dress shirt. "Yes, sir."
I had considered complaining that the duke didn't ask for my permission, but as he was my husband, I had to compromise for the sake of our marriage. After all, the knight would leave when morning came, as they both had to attend work, I had thought.
I sipped my drink; the duke and I had an odd start, but with time, our marriage would turn into a real one.
I had believed it.
Zanad had been quiet in one of the corners; as there was a guest. I found him behind the desk and sent him to prepare a room.
The night grew late. My husband and I were alone in the bridal room.
I was still in the stitched wedding gown, and the garment felt incredibly heavy after the long day.
I had not been prepared by Mother or my aunts about what a couple would do on their wedding night. My friends whom I used to talk to seemed to avoid me after Father faced bankruptcy. I could not talk about such things to Zanad either. Even if he was considered mature in human years, his childlike appearance discouraged me from sharing such inappropriate things.
So I just read in any knowledge I found from Father's library.
I calmed my mind, as my husband carried our drinks inside. I flushed red, bothered by the gown's laces, so I refused the wine, but he finished his. He paced the room as I brushed my hair.
"Should I—?" I couldn't bring myself to say the words, 'undress myself.'
He took off his armor greaves and the rest by himself, but he asked me to, "Reach the back, please."
I complied.
He used the adjacent chamber to wash himself, then joined me in a clean tunic.
Oh.
I felt disappointed to see him fully dressed; his fair hair and even his side profile looked handsome.
He finished his drink.
"My lady, come." He patted the empty space on the sofa.
I sat next to him and adjusted my gown to keep it from spilling over his feet. He accidentally knocked the wine glass from the side table; it smashed on the carpet. But before I could apologize on his behalf, he closed the distance between us.
He was on me; his weight drove me back to the sofa's edge. My hands pressed on his chest to support him; I'd found his sleeve to grip on. Our lips met, not as a peck like a pair of little birds, but as the dance of swans from the lips to our necks.
I touched his flesh under the tunic; some scars made me hesitate. Would he be hurt?
But there was nothing gentle in his grasp; he found my skin and absorbed the warmth. I reached down to find more of him, but he pushed me away. He sat up at the other end and wiped his lips as he always did.
"Why?" I asked, I couldn't contain myself anymore, "Am I not pretty enough, that you had to be so repulsed by me?"
He laughed loudly, I held my heartbeat.
"Repulsed!?" He wanted to grab his glass, but it was broken on the carpet.
He composed himself, smiling at me with a glint. "Well, I have tried. I really did. Now it's your turn to do your part."
"My part?"
"Yes, my lady, your duty as a wife."
"I don't understand—"
"One moment." He stood and left.
I adjusted my gown once more, twisting its corner as I thought about everything: he had helped me retain my manor.
Why?
He didn't say it out loud, but he had left Zanad in our care.
So that was my role? To hide Zanad?
It was not his intention to build a happy family like Mother and Father. He just needed us to hide the last Drakhenari. Then I should not force him if he's unwilling to consummate our marriage. Even if my status was only his wife in name, that's fine too.
Yes. That's fine as it is.
I wiped my tears and fixed my makeup. I would tell him I could act as Zanad's protector. After all, Zanad was part of our family.
I waited. And waited.
There was nothing grand about my room. New silk sheets, old draperies, wilting flowers.
But when my husband returned, he was not alone. He carried a glass of wine full to the brim, and his knight entered the room after him.
The knight.
The duke wanted me to consummate our marriage with his knight. I almost laughed at my ridiculous white gown.
I would learn too late why a duke would choose a fallen baroness as his spouse—he had a certain weakness.
The whole wedding was needed to hide Zanad, yes, but it was also about him. He and his twisted perversion.
The duke had prepared the bait along with the cage—Zanad and my manor. He had a reason why he kept a Drakhenari hidden at my home.
Here, the three of us—the knight, Zanad, and I—were his to command.
I was merely the extra piece to keep his knight interested...
The duke clinked his glass of wine on the side table, saying, "The knight or the creature must leave. Choose."
My hands clenched the lace of my gown; I had no honor left to keep.
Yes. Zanad should not suffer because I hesitated.
Slowly, I walked to the knight.
I did not want to remember his name.
I would remember Aurelienne. Aurelienne, my land. At that time, Aurelienne was the loveliest during harvest. The villagers would gather, humans and Drakhenaris razed the golden fields.
I took the knight's hand, and he embraced me tightly like a bundle of wheat. Like a lover, at first. I lay down on the silk and closed my eyes shut, but I saw more of Aurelienne.
Before harvest, the farmer would plow the field, and again, and again until the soil was broken and soft, ready to be seeded. The field, the bed creaked, the rustling of his clothing, the weight of him. The soil would lie still. The farmer cared about the yield, so he would plow again.
Then I gasped, realizing Zanad had been watching me; I arched my back to twist around and held my sighs, trying to hide what he saw. My nails gripped the headboard. I should think about the harvest season.
And Mara.
I remembered when I played with Mara; she was smiling at me. She didn't mind at all making straw dolls with a human. The human who purged her race.
The season ended, and the field had been razed.
The night was over, and the knight left with one look back—did he feel something for his master's supposed bride?
The duke had left earlier, disgusted, or to take care of himself.
It didn't matter anymore.
A bride or a harlot?
Alone I cried. Nothing mattered anymore.
The silk sheets felt like sandpaper, and I abhorred the smell of the room. I ran to the adjacent chamber and stood over the basin, scrubbing my skin until it burned.
Red, all red.
My hair was a tangle of knots. I pulled at it, brushing it roughly, drying the dampness from my face.
"Genevra Dauphin of Aurelienne," I muttered to myself. "Genevra Dauphin of Aurelienne," "Genevra Dauphin of Aurelienne." I could have been a madwoman.
I left the chamber, and the first thing I saw was the cheap wedding gown, lying in a heap on the floor.
Such a hideous thing!
I grabbed the scissors from my sewing kit and started cutting my misfortune. I would never leave this piece for another woman.
The sound of blades shredding the fabric relieved my pain for a bit.
—creesh creesh creesh!—
Goodness, I would not let this cursed gown pass to a daughter if I had one.
—creesh creesh creesh!—
I cut until the dress was nothing but sad ribbons, pilling at my feet. The scissors fell from my numbed fingers; I stepped back before the blade struck my feet. I had saved myself from getting hurt.
Yes, I am a true Aurelienne!
Then I realized someone had been watching me.
No... It was Zanad.
I quickly rose, covered my chest, and peeked back. He was still standing there, frozen in the adjacent room, his round eyes darkened behind his forelocks.
But when our gazes met, he turned away and dropped his knife, leaving the empty room framed by the keyhole.
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