The court physician’s words left Isnal with no choice but to grudgingly accept the diagnosis. Still, he had no desire to delve deeper into the matter. What mattered to him was finding a way to cure Sys’s condition—and fast. Isnal would rather charge across a battlefield than endure Sys’s hysterics.
But when he pleaded for a swift remedy, the physician’s response was like a bolt from the blue, barely qualifying as a prescription:
“Time is the medicine.”
It was a type of pregnancy syndrome with no specific cure. When Isnal pressed for a timeline, the physician replied nonchalantly:
“It varies. Some recover quickly, others not until childbirth. It’s different for everyone. Just assume it’ll improve once the baby arrives and take it easy.”
In that moment, Isnal realized words alone could drive him to murder. Had he been any less rational, blood would’ve spilled in the palace.
Fortunately, Sys’s hysteria didn’t surface during state affairs. As Emperor, he performed his duties flawlessly, never showing a hint of weakness—likely due to the Empress’s threat that she’d never forgive him if rumors spread among the nobles. The downside was that, outside of official duties, Sys took out his frustrations on those around him.
Isnal’s greatest misfortune was being one of those people—and a close one at that.
“Do you know how much I’m holding back because it might stress the baby? Do you have any idea how hard it is for a vigorous man to restrain himself with the woman he loves right in front of him?”
How would I know? I’m not even married!
Isnal’s silent scream went unnoticed as Sys’s complaints continued.
“You know how beautiful our Bee is. She was stunning before, but now, pregnant, she glows more each day. Just looking at her face fills me up. I’m not even asking for love—just to hold her while I sleep. So why does she reject me?”
Isnal wanted nothing more than to gag Sys’s prattling mouth.
What sin had he committed to be subjected to this marital drama in broad daylight? If Sys weren’t the Emperor, Isnal would’ve shoved a sword in his mouth by now.
“She’s made me unable to sleep without holding her soft body, and now she tells me not to touch her? How’s that different from telling me to die?”
Seeking agreement, Sys’s question pushed Isnal to the edge, clutching his hair in despair.
God, why must you test me like this?
He invoked a deity he rarely called upon, but his ordeal wasn’t over.
“I miss Bee. If I could just kiss her soft lips and breathe in her sweet breath, this thirst might ease a little.”
I’m out of here!
Unable to take it anymore, Isnal strode toward the door. If he didn’t escape now, he’d lose his mind.
Sys watched him with a bored expression.
“I’m not done talking. Where are you going?”
“…I’ll fetch Her Majesty.”
Only one person could rein Sys in. Isnal bolted toward the Empress’s Palace, fearing that enduring more of this mental torture might drive him to break his knightly oath and commit treason.
Watching Isnal flee, Sys smirked.
Soon, Bee would come to him. Knowing it would torment Isnal, he’d deliberately provoked him.
Bee’s nature wouldn’t let her ignore a knight’s earnest plea, especially one as upright as Isnal.
The thought of her lifted his spirits.
Considering her pregnancy, he should’ve gone to her. But last night’s incident had left him sulky.
Her refusal to let him touch her had been a shock.
When he, a vigorous man, protested that he couldn’t resist her soft body, Bee had cut him off:
“What if I’m not in front of you?”
“…What?”
“I’ll sleep in my own chambers for now. Rest well.”
Before Sys could react, she left for her palace without a hint of hesitation.
Left alone in the vast bedroom, he was dumbfounded.
How could she suggest separate beds so casually? And then act on it?
Normally, he’d have chased after her. Her decisions were always right, and following her had never led him astray.
But this time, he wouldn’t yield. This was a matter of a man’s pride.
To gain the upper hand, he needed to bring her into his domain.
Today, he was ready to fight—even with her.
He vowed never to let the words “separate beds” be uttered again.
“Your coming-of-age ceremony is soon.”
“Yes.”
Lant stared, entranced, as Bee lifted her teacup with an elegant, gentle smile.
Bathed in warm sunlight, her golden-brown hair shimmered like sprinkled gold dust. Her refined forehead and gracefully arched nose framed vivid green eyes.
Lant felt a pang of regret that those striking eyes weren’t fully on him as she lowered them to sip her tea.
“Anything you’d like to have?”
As if sensing his disappointment, her perfect lips parted, and her clear green eyes met his directly.
Lant ducked his head, hiding his flushed face.
“Lant?”
She tilted her head, sending a concerned glance his way.
Though he could no longer feel her warmth as he did as a child, her caring gaze alone warmed his heart.
Lant cherished her gentle affection.
“No, there’s nothing I want, Sister.”
At his reply, Bee’s face turned thoughtful.
Lant’s feelings for her bordered on worship. Like a chick imprinting on its mother, she was his compass.
His earliest memory was of a cold, unforgiving dirt floor.
Before the Marquis’s men found him, Lant had grown up among slaves, abused to the point that his survival was a miracle. Even among slaves, he was an outsider. No one cared for a parentless child.
A slave’s life was harsh, barely scraping by. To them, an orphan was a worthless burden.
There, Lant was less than human—a mere object. Even in the Elient Marquisate, only the floor changed from dirt to marble; the coldness remained.
Young Lant thought that was his lot in life. The biting cold felt natural, as he’d never known warmth.
Tap, tap.
Her slender fingers tapped the table, her green eyes lost in thought.
Lant recalled the first time he saw her. Standing against the sunlight, she looked like a goddess descended to earth.
Her golden hair gleamed, her skin was flawless, and her sweet scent was unlike anyone he’d ever known. Until her fingers pinched his cheek, he thought he was dreaming.
The first warmth he’d ever felt from another was warmer than spring sunlight melting winter’s chill.
He loved her radiant smile. For that smile, he’d do anything.
He worked hard to never disappoint her.
The Marquis title held no value to him, but for her, he’d fulfill his duties.
Of course, Bee gave him a choice.
She always prioritized his happiness. That joy made him willing to do anything for her, even play dead if she asked.
Because that was his happiness.
“Not an object, but something you want, then.”
She leaned back against the sofa. Mari, her attendant, quickly placed a cushion behind her.
Mari had become Bee’s personal maid just before the wedding and followed her to the palace.
Traditionally, the head maid of the Empress’s Palace was a trusted nanny or seasoned maid from the Empress’s family. Though Bee’s personal maid, Mari, was too young and inexperienced to take that role.
Many pitied her, but Mari wasn’t fazed. Becoming her lady’s maid and entering the palace with the Empress was a dream come true. She pinched herself daily to confirm it wasn’t a dream.
“That’s enough.”
Bee waved off Mari, who was fussing with the cushion for her comfort. Mari bowed and stepped back.
Lately, Bee’s growing belly made sitting for long periods uncomfortable. Her abdomen felt heavy, and her back ached.
Spending time with Lant, who’d come to visit, had pushed her a bit.
After her marriage, Bee deliberately avoided thinking about children. In her past life, she’d struggled to conceive, a memory that chilled her heart.
Unlike other challenges she could overcome with will, this was different. Effort alone wasn’t enough.
But, contrary to her fears, a baby came quickly.
With no morning sickness and her conscious avoidance of the topic, she realized her pregnancy late.
Upon learning of it, Sys gathered everything said to benefit pregnant women. No amount of protest stopped him. He even brought her undergarments from a woman who’d birthed twelve children, believing a superstition that they’d ease childbirth.
