Chapter 4
“I apologize, but His Grace the Grand Duke has yet to arrive.”
Floria offered an awkward smile.
“There’s no need to apologize.”
If anything, she was grateful for the delay in meeting the barbarian.
The lady-in-waiting cast a cold glance at Floria, who had stiffened as she answered.
“But His Grace has said that he will definitely arrive tonight, so there’s no need to worry. However… before we welcome him, there is something that must be checked.”
Check?
If it was about the marriage treaty, Floria knew nothing of it.
Despite being the one getting married, no one had bothered to inform her of the details.
The lady-in-waiting narrowed her eyes as she looked at Floria.
“I regret saying this, but I must check that Her Grace is not carrying anything dangerous.”
“Something dangerous?”
“Weapons, for example.”
Floria’s eyes widened at the unexpected words.
She wondered if she had misheard.
“My apologies… but Altomole and the Duchy of Sief are currently at war. A peace treaty has been arranged, but it has yet to be finalized. Altomole is still an enemy nation, and Your Grace is an enemy princess. For His Grace’s safety, I must conduct a personal inspection. Please do not worry—it is merely a formality.”
A formality, she said.
Yet, her lips were pressed into a firm line as she approached.
A body search.
By none other than a lady-in-waiting.
There was no way this could be considered appropriate treatment for the newlywed Grand Duchess, the wife of the Grand Duke himself.
She had known she was little more than a hostage, but she had not expected this level of humiliation.
Her chest tightened.
It was disgraceful.
If Father knew I was being treated like this, what would he think?
Would he be furious? Or would he be indifferent?
Perhaps he had already forgotten about her, celebrating the smooth resolution of the war.
If he had ever truly cared for her, he would not have abandoned her here in the first place.
The realization drained the strength from her body.
Even here, a mere lady-in-waiting regarded her with disdain, treating her as nothing more than an enemy princess.
At a slight nod from the head lady-in-waiting, the others, who had been standing by, stepped toward Floria.
“Does His Grace know about this? I am the Grand Duchess.”
“His Grace has entrusted us with all matters.”
A fleeting smirk passed over the lady-in-waiting’s face as she spoke.
Floria instinctively took a step back in an attempt to flee, but she didn’t get far before hands grabbed hold of her.
She never imagined that a woman’s hands could be so rough.
Several hands reached into her garments without hesitation.
“A-ah, that hurts.”
Their fingers poised at the front of her dress and lifted the hem of her skirt with alarming force.
“P-please, be gentle… It hurts.”
“It will be over soon.”
Despite their words, a hand suddenly slipped beneath her skirt, making Floria cry out in shock.
“Ack, not there—!”
As she struggled, one of the lady-in-waiting’s nails dug into the soft flesh of her thigh.
Just as she let out an involuntary whimper at the merciless touch—
The bedroom door suddenly burst open.
The hallway outside was too dark to see clearly, but a massive shadow filled the doorway.
The sheer size of the figure cast a long, ominous silhouette across the floor.
For a moment, everyone in the room froze.
“What is this commotion?”
A deep growl rumbled through the air.
His face was still hidden in shadow, yet the head lady-in-waiting immediately bowed toward him.
“Your Grace, you have arrived early.”
Silence fell.
“It’s nothing, really—”
Slow, deliberate footsteps echoed as the man strode into the room.
The candlelight illuminated his face.
At that moment, Floria forgot even the hands restraining her.
She simply stared up at him in a daze.
He’s enormous.
That was Floria’s first, instinctive thought upon seeing him up close.
She had never seen a man so tall in her life.
Broad shoulders, a powerful frame—she had caught a glimpse of him during the wedding, but facing him now in the bedroom felt entirely different.
His muscular build was so solid that the rumors about his ability to tear a man apart with his bare hands suddenly seemed all too believable.
And his eyes…
Through the tousled waves of his dark hair, his black eyes shone—deep and wild, revealing nothing of his thoughts.
His sharp nose and well-defined lips made him strikingly handsome, unlike any man she had ever seen.
Yet his piercing gaze was enough to freeze her in place.
The Tyrant Aidan.
This man was Aidan.
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