Chapter 130

The physician’s voice, heavy with concern, trailed off. “Nausea usually subsides once the mother enters a stable period. However, in some cases, it can linger. And as you know, the young lady’s situation is quite unusual. It’s difficult to predict the exact timeline.”

Rezette’s brow furrowed. “When is this stable period?”

“Generally, it’s not until the end of the first trimester that the riskier period is considered to have passed.”

A sigh escaped Rezette’s lips. “So, she must endure another month of this?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Bearing a child is a journey fraught with challenges. Morning sickness is just the beginning. The real trials start as the womb grows and the baby develops. The question is when exactly that significant phase will commence.”

Rezette muttered a curse, his frustration evident. Elise, who had inadvertently overheard, pulled the blanket over her head, shielding her ears. “Don’t listen to such terrible words, my baby,” she whispered.

Despite her words, a troubled look crossed her face. Her hand instinctively moved to her still-flat stomach. If this is just the beginning, then I’ll be even more confined once my belly starts to show. I must find a solution before it’s too late.

Elise felt her life force dwindling, consumed by the tiny life growing within her. Each day, her vitality itself seemed to slip away, leaving her weaker. If this was only going to worsen, perhaps it was wiser to make her way to the southern regions while she still had the strength.

Outside, snow continued to fall heavily over Norella. They said it would be at least another week of bitter winds before the storms would finally calm. Once the snow ceased, she’d have to return to Rotiara with Rezette. But what awaited her there was not a life of peace or a warm welcome—it was a future shadowed by watchful eyes. The main tower, where she had spent the last six months, would no longer be a refuge but a prison with no escape.

Would Sameshita come if I summoned it? she wondered.

It would. Even if it didn’t show itself, she knew it was watching her from somewhere. But whether summoning Sameshita was truly wise was uncertain. If she called upon the dragon now, she would have no choice but to give it what it desired. The dragon’s desires were insatiable, and it would not be swayed by tears.

Elise decided to refrain from summoning Sameshita, at least until there was no other choice. There was still a glimmer of hope. The night before, a servant had quietly delivered a message from Genovia:

“I’ve uncovered the meaning behind ‘Ricardo’s mast.’ I’ll be meeting with some suspects soon, but I’ll need a token that confirms your identity. Can you send something to verify it’s truly you?”

A grand token wasn’t necessary. Elise wrote down a childhood memory she had shared with Barnon on a small scrap of paper and added a few strands of her hair, which she entrusted to the servant. He promised to return swiftly and discreetly, keeping the Grand Duke unaware of their exchange.

The door swung open once more, and the sound of heavy footsteps drew near. Elise halted her thoughts and closed her eyes, as if she had been waiting all along.

How am I going to leave this place? The question lingered, ever-present, overshadowing all else. But this time, she knew her approach would have to change. She could no longer try to melt Rezette’s defenses with words crafted to ease his suspicions; he had grown wise to her ploys. Just as she had steeled herself emotionally, Rezette, too, had fortified his suspicions.

Shallow words of affection had proven hollow—just as he had warned. And so, Elise chose silence.

For three days, she had not spoken a single word, locking her voice away as she stared into empty space. Whenever Rezette, unable to stand the silence, tried to meet her eyes, she simply closed her eyelids, refusing him. This quiet resistance was the strongest statement she could make.

“Elise,” he called out, his voice laced with unease. 

The more she clung to her silence, the less Rezette could mask his discomfort. Her quietness unsettled him most of all, and it had become common for him to shake her awake in the dead of night. Groggy and disoriented, she would find herself pulled into his embrace, as though words alone could not bridge the growing distance between them.

“Elise,” he repeated, his voice more urgent.

Ignoring his call, she rested her head against the windowsill, feeling his eyes on her. He must think I look unwell…. No words followed, but she heard the scrape of a chair being pulled back hastily.

She kept her eyes shut, feigning oblivion, but it was too late to avoid the shadow that had already fallen over her.

Rezette leaned down and kissed her. His lips covered hers, sealing them in a firm press, filling her breaths with the faint, bitter scent of Artemisia that lingered on him.

Since that day, Rezette hadn’t touched her in any other way. But occasionally, he would press his lips to hers with an intensity that left her breathless.

The way he would part her lips after a brief, delicate exploration, slipping in slowly and cautiously, held an unusual tenderness. He coaxed her mouth open, seeking her tongue with gentle precision, brushing along the soft, sensitive insides. His kisses were so deep, they left her senses blurred and her mind hazy.

She had sometimes bitten his fingers when they’d ventured past her lips before, but this was entirely different—warm, moist, yielding. Above all, it was so soft that resisting him felt impossible. When she was unsure how to respond, he would slide his hand along the tense line of her neck, easing her into his rhythm. Each time he did, soft breaths and faint whimpers escaped her parted lips.

She’d thought their relationship was too distant for this level of intimacy, believing that kisses were a boundary, a lock that kept their marriage confined to mere contractual terms. But Rezette had crossed that line, sweeping her into these tender moments as naturally as he had on the first night they shared.

As time went on, these kisses became second nature, almost familiar. Perhaps it was the way his lips and tongue moved against hers, reminding her of how he had once tasted every inch of her, dissolving the barriers she had thought were unbreakable.

Their noses brushed as their heads tilted in unison, bringing them even closer. Their mingled breaths and the taste of him on her tongue felt intoxicating—like a warmth she’d never known. She’d never even tasted alcohol, but she imagined it must feel something like this. Though he had taken in more than her, somehow his touch left her feeling calmer, the dull ache in her chest easing and her feverishness subsiding.

“Elise, breathe,” Rezette murmured, pulling back just slightly.

She drew in a ragged breath, realizing her spine was half-arched. When she tried to turn her face away, his hand firmly held her jaw, guiding her gaze back to his. Desperately, she pressed her lips together, hiding them from his reach.

This was enough.

She needed to end this before it deepened into something more consuming. She still feared he might lose control, that he might try to claim her again. He had sworn he wouldn’t… but she wasn’t certain she could trust that promise.

Rezette’s thumb traced over her sealed lips, and he let out a frustrated sigh.

“Please, don’t do this,” he pleaded. “If you don’t want this, say it. I need to hear it to feel assured.”

Nothing.

“If that doesn’t sit well with you, then push me away. Get angry.”

Still, nothing.

“Elise, do you really intend to never speak to me again?”

From the day his wife’s silence had begun, Rezette felt as though half of him was burning in hell.

She allowed his kisses, yet flinched at his touch. She sought his embrace, only to withdraw moments later, a prisoner of her own fear. She neither raged nor rebelled, but retreated into a silent world. The only sound she made was the soft sigh during his kisses.

Had Elise been her usual self, perhaps this might have been tolerable. Scars and all, she was still unbearably beautiful to him; he could gaze at her for hours without tiring. But things were different now. Elise had begun to retreat from him, slipping into sleep as if seeking refuge, and he could no longer ignore the nagging question of whether she was truly alive or simply drifting away.

Her breaths came shallow, her figure unmoving in sleep, and her pallid face, so still beneath closed lids, unsettled him each time he glanced at her. More than once, he’d shaken her awake just to reassure himself, only for her to seal her lips shut, refusing to ease his anxiety. Her silence was driving him mad.

“I was wrong for what happened three days ago. I’m sorry,” he admitted.

It was all his fault. He shouldn’t have pressed her, shouldn’t have demanded anything from someone so vulnerable—someone who carried his child and needed rest.

“I won’t ever try to force you again. If you don’t want it, I’ll respect that.”

His words fell on deaf ears.

“Elise, I need to know what you’re thinking. Please, don’t shut me out.”

His apologies, repeated over several days, met the same silence.

Rezette understood why; he had evaded her question about what he intended for their child. He knew that if he truly wanted to reach Elise, to soften her heart, he would have to give her an answer.

Yet he couldn’t bring himself to lie, to make a promise he didn’t intend to keep. Because, in truth, he had no desire to protect their child.

Over the past few days, watching her closely, Rezette had come to a chilling certainty about the life growing inside her.

It was, by his nature, a poisonous existence—like a venomous plant. He could not view their child any other way. No matter how hard he tried to suppress it, he couldn’t ignore the coldness that seemed to radiate from him whenever he thought of it.

This child would kill its mother, he was certain. Not in some distant future, but possibly in a matter of months, or even days. Maybe even today.

And it was driving him mad.

“Elise.”

Only silence returned to him, echoing back like a boomerang.

“Elizabeth.”

As her breath slowed and steadied, Rezette felt his patience fracture. His vow to respect her wishes crumbled, swept away like sand beneath a crashing wave. Her relentless silence had broken him.

He gripped her shoulders and sat her up, his hands cupping her thin face as he pressed his lips to hers once more. This time, he felt her faint response—a soft, almost imperceptible exhale, as if in resignation.

She’s not unconscious, he thought, even finding a small amount of solace in the cold sigh that left her lips. But he still felt foolish—bitter, even—as the words escaped him.

“This is the last time,” he muttered under his breath.

“If you don’t give me peace, I might destroy what you hold dear. Is that what you want?”

As his lips claimed hers, Elise, who had been idly tugging at the edge of the blanket in irritation, suddenly looked up. Shock filled her eyes as they met his.

So this is the answer, she realized.