“I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
Kael gave a small smile. It made her blood run cold.
“Magnanimity. I don’t have any.”
He reached into his jacket and set something on the parlor table.
“What — what is this?”
‘Contract’
‘The party referred to as ‘A’ agrees, in exchange for taking the party referred to as ‘B’, to become legally wed to ‘B’.’
”A’ shall, as Duchess, fulfill the obligations of a spouse in full for the duration of ‘A’s natural life.’
‘Courtship period: one month. The wedding ceremony shall take place approximately one month thereafter.’
“This is absurd.”
“I was thinking we might arrange a formal meeting with your family in two weeks.”
“…What is this? Are you serious? You want to get married over one night?”
A short, humorless breath escaped him.
“Did you imagine I would simply offer my body without some form of consideration?”
“I — well — transactional arrangements of that nature are generally considered—”
“I’ll be the judge of that.”
She felt the disbelief shuddering through her entire frame.
One reckless night, and she was supposed to marry this man?
“But — I have no memory of it—”
“That’s fine. We have it in writing.”
“My parents aren’t even here—”
“The Count and Countess return in approximately two weeks, so the timing should not be unreasonable.”
He knew her parents’ schedule. He had looked into it, or perhaps simply inquired. Either way, if she tried to lie her way out of this, she would almost certainly be caught.
“I’ll arrange for the detailed schedule to be communicated through an intermediary.”
Kael reached back across the table and tucked the document into his jacket.
“W — wait!”
‘Fine. Desperate times.’
“The truth is — I was broken off from my fiancé just a few days ago. My parents are already furious about it — they told me they’d send me to a convent. And I — I was only running away for one night because I felt so wronged, and this happened to happen on that particular night—”
“…”
“If I suddenly appear with a new man I intend to marry, just days after ending my previous engagement, my parents will be livid. And the talk in society — it would be devastating. And if it came out that I was getting married because I’d put you in a compromising position, my parents — who care about reputation above almost everything — would be absolutely furious.”
“You don’t need to explain the whole story to your parents.”
“But if I announce I’m marrying a man I’ve never so much as met — won’t they draw their own conclusions? And there might be witnesses, someone who saw us at the hotel together that night—”
“So. What you’re saying, in short, is that you’d like to push back the meeting?”
She didn’t hesitate.
“Could we — possibly — break the contract?”
He pressed two fingers to his temple.
“I am not particularly fond of repeating myself.”
His irritation came through with perfect clarity.
“Right — right, of course, breaking it is out of the question, since I did sign it myself. In that case — could we perhaps delay the wedding? Just a little?”
“Give me a reason.”
“…Um.”
“I have no interest in wasting time. I’ll take your silence as a refusal—”
‘Just buy yourself time. Any time.’
“I’ve — I’ve never been in a relationship before—”
“I wrote a courtship period into the terms. One month.”
She wrung her damp hands together and made herself speak clearly.
“I’ve never had a single romance in my entire life. Before getting married, I’d like to at least — go on a date. Visit a nice restaurant with someone. Have dessert at a café. Walk through an evening market—”
“You can do all of that after the wedding. That’s no obstacle.”
Not a chance, his tone said plainly. She drooped.
‘What do I do? Am I really going to marry him? That terrifying man?’
“But doing those things before a wedding and after — they’re completely different. There’s so much I want to experience. One month is far too short.”
“You’re taking a long time to get to the point. What is it you actually want?”
“The — the courtship period. I mean, the time to get to know each other. I’d like it to be a little longer.”
He looked at her steadily — a slow, thorough appraisal. Under that gaze she couldn’t quite help shrinking.
“If you’re simply trying to stall, you’d do well to stop now. Ivelina.”
“…”
“I have, as I’m sure you’re aware, limited patience.”
“I — I’m not the kind of person who plays tricks like that! When I say something, I mean it.”
Those red eyes held hers without moving. She had the uncomfortable feeling they were reading everything she hadn’t said.
She looked away guiltily.
He let out a short exhale — nearly a laugh — and his voice loosened by the smallest degree.
“Very well. Getting to know each other first isn’t the worst idea in the world.”
“Th-thank you. Your Grace.”
‘It’s a little unfair, actually. I was a first-timer too. Why am I the only one being treated like the guilty party?’
“Two months, then.”
“…Three months?”
“One month.”
“I’m — I’m sorry. Two months. Two months is perfect.”
She had bought herself a grain of time. It was something.
“You’re behaving oddly today,” he said then.
“I’m sorry? How so?”
“Last night you spent half the night calling my name without a moment’s hesitation.”
She said nothing.
“Why do you keep calling me ‘Your Grace’ now.”
“It’s not that I’m refusing to say it. I… can’t quite bring myself to.”
She pressed her lips into a pout, genuinely aggrieved.
“Why. What’s the reason.”
He tilted his head at a slight angle and waited. She glanced away and wet her lower lip with the tip of her tongue.
“Promise you won’t be angry. If I tell you—”
A brief, quiet exhale. He shook his head.
“I promise. I won’t be angry. Though I haven’t been angry at any point.”
‘He had been angry the entire time, hadn’t he? Or had he?’
Well. A promise was a promise. She slid a cautious look sideways and spoke.
“I’m… frightened of you.”
Not that his name was some beloved pet’s call-name she used casually. She simply did not have the liver — not even a kidney’s worth — to say the name of a villain like that out loud.
“…”
Kael’s expression solidified. His brows drew together almost imperceptibly.
‘Well. He asked. I answered honestly.’
His throat moved — a single, constrained bob.
He was angry. That was unmistakable. But she had meant every word.
“You said you wouldn’t be angry.”
“I’m not.”
He lifted his teacup quietly. She watched his throat very carefully.
‘…He’s angry. Definitely.’
“Going forward — drop the title. Drop the rank. Call me by my name.”
“I’ll remember that.”
She answered immediately, flattened by the weight of that measured, cave-deep voice.
The way he spoke. The way he looked at things. He truly was frightening in every direction.
“Your former fiancé, incidentally.”
“Yes?”
“Can you handle that on your own? If it becomes complicated, I can assist.”
“How?”
“Oh, there are various ways to deal with something like that.”
He delivered this in a perfectly calm, dispassionate voice.
‘Deal with.’
That was not the language of a reasonable resolution. Not mediation, not legal remedy, not a politely worded severance.
“Oh — no! I’m fine, really!”
She intervened quickly.
She disliked unnecessary harm to living things. She couldn’t even bring herself to kill an insect without feeling bad about it. Edwin was awful, yes — but he didn’t deserve to die simply for having once been her fiancé. That chapter was already closed.
“Edwin — I can manage Edwin cleanly on my own. Please leave that one to me.”
But something in what she had said seemed to snag on something in him. He tilted his head and spoke.
“Ivelina. There’s something I’d like to ask.”
“…What is it?”
His voice and his expression had gone very quiet, very quickly. A chill moved through her.
She swallowed and waited.
“Do you still have feelings for that former fiancé of yours?”
The red eyes watching her held a faint, strange luminescence — and something about them made her deeply uneasy.
If she said yes, she was fairly certain he would kill her on the spot.
