Chapter 278
That night, the woman stood before him wearing nothing but a thin chemise. It was hard to believe that only now, after so much time had passed, they were finally having the consummation that should have happened long ago.
Izar quietly gazed at her shoulders, round and shining in the candlelight.
In this room, there was no terrible stench of blood—only the woman’s scent. It was like the smell of grass on a hillside bathed in twilight.
He took a slow breath, unable to understand why his chest ached so tightly.
Why was he so restless, when it was only because he had given in to the Emperor’s provocation?
“Raise your head.”
“Ah, yes…”
But before she could even answer, he lifted her chin. Her face, small enough to be covered by his single hand, was finally so close.
Beneath her trembling lashes, her shadowed eyes wavered like a lake at sunset.
He found himself idly brushing her small mouth—always so on his mind—with his thumb, before slowly trailing his hand down her body.
Everything about her was so much slimmer and frailer than himself. Everywhere he touched was warm and soft.
His heart began to race. But when he held her by the waist, the woman’s face twisted in embarrassment and hesitation.
“Ah.”
At the sound that betrayed her discomfort and reluctance, she stiffened, as if she truly did not want to approach him.
He could hardly call it unexpected.
After leaving her neglected for so long, it was no wonder she hesitated when he finally sought her out.
He pressed her, as if telling her to accept reality.
“Come closer.”
“……”
“There’s no putting it off any longer anyway.”
“…Yes.”
She nodded reluctantly. Then, before Izar could say anything, she unfastened her chemise herself.
In an instant, the room fell silent.
The candlelight, which had only illuminated her rounded shoulders, now washed her whole body in a soft gold glow.
Her slender neck, the shadowed lines of her delicate collarbone. The smooth curve of her chest beneath, the slimness of her waist.
And then, when his gaze rose again, those shadowed light-green eyes.
She was beautiful enough to steal a person’s soul. More than anyone he had ever known.
But when she spoke, stumbling over her words in a complicated voice, his ears felt as though they had closed off.
“Tonight, my duty… I’ll do my best.”
“Your duty?”
“Yes, the duty of the bedchamber.”
With a resigned face, she gazed quietly at him. Even as she revealed her naked body to a man, she appeared utterly unmoved, as if it didn’t matter at all.
“No need for anything bothersome. Please, just do as you wish.”
“……”
It took him a moment to understand what she meant by ‘bothersome’.
Union for the sake of procreation. Nothing more.
She wanted to make clear there was no meaning beyond that.
She wasn’t wrong, but for some reason, he wanted to argue back and opened his mouth.
“……Ha.”
But when he saw her calves, what came out was only a sigh, mixed with self-mockery and embarrassment.
Her legs were a mess of scars.
Scars from being struck with whips or canes before her previous wounds had even healed.
Her insane mother hadn’t had the strength to do this to her, so he could easily guess who had.
As that thought struck him, the heat in his chest, fired by desire for her, cooled off.
‘Did I really want this woman that much?’
A woman too low-born to make a wife, whom he weighed against the Prince’s life.
Did he want her so badly that he hoped she would desire him in return?
But what woman in her right mind would come to a marriage with him, suffer what she had, and still want him?
Now, of all times.
“Yes, it’s a duty.”
“……”
“Our relationship should end that way.”
He didn’t want to think anymore about what was right or wrong. Even in resignation, his first woman was dazzling.
Every time the woman barely managed to take him and gasped with tightly shut eyes, a shower of pleasure sparks burst down his spine.
His brain grew hazy with the heat rising from his hips.
‘Just a little more.’
When he drank in the sight of her face, his grip on his control loosened and his hips moved even more fiercely. He wanted to leave himself inside her.
He wanted her to feel pleasure when he thrust into her.
But from start to finish, her eyes were filled only with fear. Each time he moved, she trembled in pain, crying as if he were digging at her wounds.
Izar clenched his teeth at her frail sobs.
Every second spent moving inside her, alone in his pleasure, was empty.
Yet, he still held her tightly and didn’t stop.
He wanted her to be his, now.
The first night ended with only his own satisfaction, and the woman never wore the wedding-night gift he gave her afterward.
“Ha.”
Each time he saw that the peridot jewelry never once dangled from her ears, Izar let out a sardonic laugh tinged with defeat. He didn’t want to stoop to the pathetic act of commanding her to wear it by force.
After that, Izar did not touch the woman again. Not because his desire for her had cooled.
But because, from that single union, she conceived a child.
Thus, there was finally a reason for her to stay in his bedroom all day without it being awkward.
It was also a convenient excuse to hold her hand going down the stairs, saying it was for her safety.
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