Yet, seeing the dawn was harder than reaching the night. To sleep upon the soil of my own homeland, yet within the fortress of the empire... Not a wink of sleep graced my eyes the entire night. Naturally, my already frayed nerves were stretched even tauter. But to be honest—this night had passed better than I had even imagined.

I stirred to rise from the bed. The pitcher on my nightstand was empty; only Ambrose’s side had been filled. To avoid walking all the way around the massive bed, I quietly climbed over Ambrose’s legs, assuming him to be in a deep slumber. When my fingertips finally brushed the cold floor, something inside me loosened. I poured a glass of water from the pitcher and drank.

As I sipped the water, my eyes lingered on the sight before me. It made me feel... strange. This man... The General, the man who held the entire army in his chain of command, and the future Emperor... From what I had heard, his father, Emperor Leontius Verena, upon seeing Ambrose married, intended to pass the throne to his eldest child—and in my opinion, the most worthy—Ambrose. But this would never be possible with me. What they called marriage was the mere opportunity to secure an heir. And I, by some cruel twist of fate, was perhaps the only woman in the universe incapable of bearing children. I leaned a little closer to his face; rumor had it that not a single blade had ever touched his skin, likely because any hands that dared reach for him were swiftly severed from their limbs. Well... What if I were to kill him? Right here, while I was so close. While listening to his breaths. While his hands lay motionless.

How easy would it be?

As he opened his eyes, a lock of hair that had slipped from behind my ear brushed against his face. He merely narrowed his right eye; he did nothing else.

"I am sorry," I said, hurriedly trying to steady my voice. I tucked my hair back behind my ear and took a step away from the bed.

"You lay there terrified to breathe all night, but you are quite lively in the morning," he remarked with a sleep-heavy voice.

"It has nothing to do with the morning. It was for the pitcher." I crossed my arms over my chest.

He let out a deep sigh, then slowly propped himself up. "You will sleep more comfortably after tonight."

Is he going to share his bed with someone else? It can't be—has he already changed his mind because of what I did yesterday? If he divorces me or immediately marries another, my father's and brother's names will be tarnished! No, no, he doesn't mean it like that... Surely, he doesn't.

The moment he rose from the bed, all his muscles pulled taut, a clear sign that I wasn't the only tense one. Should I have asked him why he said that? Or would he silently slip away to other women? Did he even do that normally? He was notorious for never letting a woman within arm's reach.

"Breakfast..." he murmured, rolling his shoulders to stretch. "We can join breakfast after the others. Take a nice bath, but... alone." He placed a deliberate emphasis on that last word. "If the servants see your unblemished body, no one will believe what happened last night. There must be no gossip."

Though I stood behind him, I nodded. Burying every question I needed to ask deep within, I silently made my way to the bathhouse.

Stepping into the bathing chamber, I watched the heavy door click shut behind me. The air inside was a thick blend of soap, heated stone, and damp steam. The bathtub was vast and clad in marble, its edges adorned with delicate, copper-gilded engravings. Beneath it, the steam of water heated by the furnace's fire rose in faint wisps. The servants had prepared the bath beforehand, but now the room was entirely empty. Ambrose's warning to be 'alone' made the silence echo even louder.

I slipped off my nightgown. As the sheer fabric fell to the floor, my skin shivered despite the room's suffocating warmth. I stepped up to the edge of the tub. The water was hot enough to exhale steam, yet gentle enough not to scald the flesh.

Slowly, I dipped my foot in. Then, I surrendered my entire body to the water. The heat unspooled my nerves, but the knot in my heart remained tightly bound. Submerged, I folded my hands over my stomach, tilted my head back, and stared at the low arch of the ceiling. Marriage, empire, duty, curse, blood... And now, stripped bare like this for the very first time, confined within a body untouched by anyone, I was left alone with nothing but my own thoughts.

Driven by a sudden, visceral instinct, I submerged myself completely under the water. With even my head beneath the surface, I inexplicably felt as though someone was holding me down. It was me—I had forced my own body to the depths, yet this tub wasn't that deep; just a little more and I could lift my head, or so I thought, but I wasn't even close. It was as if a sudden paralysis had struck my neck. I felt as though I was drowning myself, right up until the moment I nearly swallowed water. Surging up from the tub as if rising from a pool of blood, I violently scrubbed my face and cast my gaze around the empty room. It would be better if I returned before entirely losing my mind; even if I loathed the prying eyes, perhaps the servants' assistance would be for the best after tonight.

After pulling on my base garments, I summoned the servants. My wardrobe had been entirely rearranged. Which gown was meant for breakfast, which for midday—I had no idea.

The three of them were women in their late forties. They smoothed out my skirts and made a few adjustments. The youngest approached with a corset. Before she could even touch me, she caught a scolding.

"Tch, tch, do you want the baby to die inside? Will a child take hold with a corset like that? The lady shall wear no corset in the mornings. Just tie the laces well, that is enough."

"Of course... my apologies," the girl murmured. She bowed her head and surrendered the task to the others.

The woman styling my hair muttered under her breath as she wove a pin into my curls: "...as if there is going to be one."

At that moment, Ambrose was out on the balcony. When our eyes met, he stepped inside. He approached us; the sheer resolve in his stride seemed to shape the very air in the room.

"My princess looks beautiful enough," he said, his voice carrying its usual, detached coldness. "May I take her off your hands now?"

He extended his hand. For me, this was an escape—I took it instantly. I caught the eye of the servant fussing with my hair. "They are just doing their jobs, but..." I offered timidly. Still, I leaned closer to Ambrose.

"We will only ruin it anyway," he stated briefly. "Are you hungry? Come. Let's go downstairs."

I clung tightly to his arm, eager to leave the whispers behind. I didn't question it. I had no other choice anyway. This game didn't belong solely to him anymore—we were both playing it.

I do not know if it was a private gathering, but even members of the dynasty whose names I did not know were present. We bowed to King Leontius; I lowered my head a fraction more. Ambrose, deeming this sufficient, placed a hand on the small of my back and pulled out my chair to seat me beside him. I was astounded. Even if a husband was pleased with the previous night's 'service', women generally stood waiting behind their husband's chair at breakfast until they were with child. And it wasn't just me; the other noble princesses were also shooting bewildered glances at this scene. Something began to prick at my chest. A lump seemed to form in my throat. But I could not rise. Not unless he permitted it...

"How delightful," someone chuckled. The voice held a barbed, mocking cheer. "Tell me, dear brother, which of you is truly the fortunate one? You, for possessing a wife so... talented or your wife, for having a husband whose appetites are so easily appeased?"