A shabby wagon, branded with a red mark signifying it carried a criminal, rattled along an overgrown, solitary path.

Inside, Isabella Rudo was struggling to calm her heart, which shook as violently as the wagon’s wheels.

It’s alright.

Her mother had assured her that every precaution had been taken for times like these.

For the next plan, she was an essential figure, and no matter what, her mother would ensure she returned to her rightful place soon.

“Mother’s words have never been wrong. Nor has she ever broken a promise.”

So there was no need to tremble, Isabella scolded herself.

Inside the dusty, foul-smelling wagon, she rubbed her cold arms vigorously.

Through a tiny gap, barely a hand’s width, she could only glimpse the sky, unable to discern their destination.

She had heard that those sentenced to exile were sent to a detention facility far from the capital.

Once the necessary procedures were complete, they would spend years in a sort of designated banishment.

“But I am the young lady of the Rudo ducal family.”

Her mother had always said, to the point of wearing out her lips.

In the Rernel Empire, the most exalted name after Escalo was Rudo, and the name Rudo was akin to a pardon in the empire.

Moreover, there were the years of contributions their family had made to the imperial household.

Surely, after a day or two in the detention facility, someone would come to fetch her.

Comforted by this thought, Isabella felt the wagon had been traveling far longer than expected.

The sky visible through the gap had turned a reddish hue.

It seemed half a day had passed since she boarded the wagon.

“Could they be sending me to a facility with slightly better conditions, considering my status?”

Unlike the peacefully drifting clouds, she tried to ignore a creeping, nameless anxiety rising in her chest.

The wagon, which seemed it would rumble on forever, began to slow down.

Isabella steadied her swaying body.

The tightly shut door opened, and the escort soldier told her to extend her arms so he could bind her wrists before letting her off.

Biting back bitter humiliation, Isabella complied with his demand, maintaining her noble dignity.

“Have we arrived at the facility? It feels like we’ve come quite far. Where are we?”

“…”

The escort soldier ignored her as if her words were inaudible, roughly pulling her out of the wagon.

Falling onto the dirt, Isabella grumbled that slowing down wouldn’t hurt, then raised her head.

What met her eyes was neither a detention facility nor anything resembling one.

It was a rugged mountain valley, devoid of human presence, where not even an ant seemed to pass.

Perched atop a steep cliff was an old house.

To call it old was generous; the structure, clearly from the Dark Ages, was so decayed it looked ready to collapse with a single tap.

Even at this point, Isabella was merely bewildered, unable to grasp the situation.

“Where is this place?”

The escort soldier, showing no intent to respond, dragged her mercilessly toward the cliff.

Amid eerie winds shaking the forest like a ghost’s wail and the ominous cawing of crows.

Unlike the house’s dilapidated exterior, the soldier opened a door secured with a complex lock.

Then he shoved Isabella roughly into the pitch-black interior.

“Eek!”

Despite her near-indoctrinated training to never lose her refinement, Isabella couldn’t hold back and raised her head.

But the escort soldier thrust a gleaming blade at her throat as she tried to escape the house.

With a gasp, Isabella stumbled back, beginning to realize something was terribly wrong.

“What—what is this? Why are you doing this? Where is this place? Where have you brought me?”

Instead of answering, the escort soldier slammed the door shut.

He then fiddled with the locking mechanism, securing it multiple times.

Isabella, lips trembling, realized raising her voice wasn’t the answer and began pounding on the door, pleading.

“Alright, I understand. I was wrong. I’m sorry for getting angry. Please, get me out of here! Hello!”

To her dismay, the sound of the escort soldier’s footsteps faded until they were gone.

In the darkness where she couldn’t see an inch ahead, Isabella stood dazed for a long time.

She looked around, trying to make sense of her surroundings.

Her eyes needed more time to adjust to the dark.

Furious yet overwhelmed with the urge to sob, Isabella sank to the floor.

After a while, objects began to come into view.

No word but “eerie” could describe it.

Dust floated freely in the air, and the walls were cracked.

The floorboards, soaked with moisture, seemed ready to collapse if stepped on wrong, and cobwebs draped everywhere.

She looked for a window to escape through, but the Dark Ages’ architectural style left them all too narrow.

“Why am I in a place like this…?”

She was scared and confused.

Burying her head between her knees and sobbing, she recalled a conversation with Parnes Escalo.

“There’s no one else I can ask but you.”

His face, armed with a sudden spring-like gentleness, lowering her guard.

Realizing he had planned this from the start, Isabella trembled with betrayal.

“How could he deceive someone so casually…?”

Even for an emperor, kidnapping and imprisoning a noble family’s cherished daughter was far beyond the line.

By now, her mother must be frantic, realizing her whereabouts were unknown.

If she endured just a little longer, her mother would surely come to rescue her, Isabella believed without doubt, steeling her heart.

“To think you speak as if you were once nearly a queen. You are merely my wife’s maid. Do not forget your place.”

She thought she had completely forgotten.

“The sacred moment when the king and queen unite for the first time. Be quiet and behave.”

Like water that has flowed away and cannot return, the past was just the past.

She had thought that no matter what Shallen Riche said, she could remain unshaken and composed.

But that was a foolish notion.

Kasallin Robepon realized she had been overestimating herself.

.

.

.

“Kasallin!”

At the urgent call of her name, Kasallin shuddered awake from her sleep.

It felt like being pulled from a scalding mud pit.

“It’s alright, just breathe slowly. It’s only a dream.”

It was already the second day of being tormented by nightmares.

Shallen Riche’s image, listing past events in detail and demanding forgiveness, haunted her dreams.

She was fine when awake, but sleep brought this torment, leaving her unable to face Parnes Escalo.

Waking up tear-streaked as always, Kasallin clung half to his embrace, breathing heavily.

“Your Majesty.”

“Yes, my lady. I’m right here.”

“I must have screamed in my sleep again. I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing? Don’t say such things.”

Parnes Escalo gently brushed back Kasallin’s sweat-dampened hair.

His slightly cooler-than-average hand felt refreshing against her flushed cheek.

Unconsciously, Kasallin pressed her cheek against his palm.

For a moment, his hand seemed to stiffen, then slowly began to caress her face.

Between pregnancy-induced sleepiness and the comfort of his touch, her body soon relaxed.

“My lady, you need to eat something.”

“I have no appetite. I just want to sleep more.”

“But—”

“It’s alright. Thanks to Your Majesty being here, I don’t think I’ll have bad dreams anymore.”

Kasallin’s eyes softened into a gentle curve.

Parnes Escalo, perfectly backlit by the setting sun, hid his expression from view.

After a long, ambiguous silence, he wordlessly laid Kasallin down and pulled the blanket over her.

“If you’re sleepy, rest more. I’ll stay by your side until you fall asleep.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Let a husband do this much for his wife who’s enduring so much.”

Parnes Escalo lay beside Kasallin, gently rubbing her belly.

He had certainly changed since returning from touring the Tunsli Islands.

Always kind, he now went beyond mere consideration… almost to the point of obsession.

Kasallin assumed it was because she was carrying a child of imperial blood.

True, he had once said he had no desire to see a child from her.

But people’s hearts naturally change with circumstances, don’t they?

As emperor, he was simply ensuring the imperial heir grew and was born safely.

If not for that reason.

There was no other way to explain the intensity in his gaze, as if he could devour her face without blinking.

Right in front of the cliff, the old house shook as if it might collapse whenever a strong wind blew.

Isabella’s belief that her mother would soon come to rescue her lasted until the fallen sun rose to midday.

It continued until that sun sank behind the mountains again.

By the second night, Isabella, her face noticeably gaunt, stared at the door.

“Strange. She should have come by now…”

To check again for any escape route, she mustered all her strength to stand.

But her body, weakened from days without food, collapsed after a few steps.

Dust rose thickly from the floor.

When a bug from the wall fell near her head, Isabella screamed and scrambled up the stairs.

Her throat was parched from crying. Her head spun, and her mouth was dry.

She desperately wanted even a single sip of water.

Crawling on all fours, her eyes fell on a basin abandoned in the corner.

Foul water, stagnant for who-knows-how-long, sloshed with black dust.