“Gasp…!”
Simultaneous intakes of breath echoed among the Irugo warriors.
They could hardly believe the words that came from Aristine’s lips.
Sir Durante’s expression was equally priceless.
They all reacted as though they had swallowed a live bomb.
“Ahem.”
Durante cleared his throat to break the tension.
“It’s not that. A beast was sighted.”
So he’d gone out on a beast hunt. Aristine pieced it together.
‘Not just any hunt, but a beast hunt.’
That explained why her betrothed was absent for her arrival.
‘But still.’
“Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?”
Aristine’s sharp question drew no change in Durante’s calm face.
“I merely answered where he was, as you asked.”
Aristine paused. Indeed, he had spoken no falsehood.
She tilted the corner of her mouth.
“Telling only half the truth to steer someone to a false conclusion is deception as well.”
For the first time, surprise flickered in Durante’s eyes.
Aristine held his gaze and narrowed her eyes.
Durante briefly stilled.
His face was smeared with dust, dirt, and sweat—yet somehow the princess had caught his full attention.
Her eyes, violet as dawn, shone deep and unknowable.
“I hope you won’t deceive me again.”
Before they entered the palace, Durante suggested she wash and change her clothes.
But the Silvanus envoy protested immediately.
〈Wash? How dare you imply our princess is dirty!〉
〈Why force Irugo clothing on Her Highness before she even enters the palace?〉
Until then, they had paid her no mind—but now they bristled at the suggestion.
After a few more heated exchanges, the Silvanus delegates refused to relent.
With no desire to spark conflict in the prince’s absence, Durante reluctantly backed down.
“Must we really escort her to the palace in that state?”
“We have no alternative.”
“Why heed the Silvanus nags?”
“Would you disrupt a political marriage to placate them? Who will clean up that mess?”
“They’ll complain anyway at the sight of her like that.”
They were right.
The Irugo King would surely feel insulted when he saw the princess and her retinue.
The King sought a true end to the war.
The marriage would stand, but rumors and grievances would follow.
Such discord would fall upon their lord to resolve.
Given the Silvanus side’s rudeness, it seemed calculated to provoke trouble.
“Even so, let us not be the ones to ignite it.”
With that, the warriors fell silent.
Durante silently prayed no one would be in the palace when they arrived.
‘A foolish hope, but a hope nonetheless.’
At least the King himself was unlikely to open the palace gates just then.
“But I did not expect the princess to be such a person.”
They all understood he did not mean she would literally be filthy only that her demeanor surprised them.
“She’s nothing like I imagined.”
“Our lord—achoo!—is apparently very shy… Ha!”
Nervous laughter rippled among the warriors.
At first they had been shocked, even fearful, but the more they pondered it, the more they laughed.
Only the princess could speak so freely to their lord.
“I must admit, I like her.”
“Me too.”
“Yes, much more than I anticipated. Though my first thought was different.”
Durante listened to their chatter and glanced back at the princess’s carriage.
It was lavish and opulent beyond belief for a ragged bride.
What story lay behind it?
He could not forget her eyes when they first met.
Even on that dirty face, they shone like stars against the night sky.
Transparent yet fathomless, as if no one dared peer into their depths.
He shook off the thought. His lord was his priority.
“Don’t be too taken with her. Silvanus are cunning—you never know. The princess may have come to kill our lord.”
‘Does it seem they await the princess more eagerly than our lord?’
‘Our lord will be the one to wed her, not them.’
Seeing the crowd gathered at Tarkan’s palace, the warriors frowned.
They could not reprimand the prince’s siblings present.
Yet the man she was betrothed to was away on a beast hunt, while royal siblings idled here as if at a festival.
‘At least His Majesty did not come.’
Fortunately, the King would not witness the princess’s filthy state.
But that hardly guaranteed a smooth succession of events.
The royal family’s motives were clear.
‘They came to spy on the prince’s bride and find any excuse to demean her.’
They would nitpick her every flaw.
Yet there was no flaw more glaring than her appearance right now.
Watching the royals’ expressions tighten at the sight of the carriage, Aristine sighed inwardly.
They expected a bride worthy of such splendor.
She hoped the carriage door would jam, or lightning strike, anything to prevent the reveal.
But to her frustration, it opened smoothly—revealing—
“My goodness…!”
“What is… this?”
The princess, clad in tatters, emerged into view.
Their shock silenced their jeers momentarily.
Then mockery burst forth.
“Truly fitting for someone of low birth.”
“Well matched, one might say.”
“I expected the Silvanus princess—but she looks worse than the filth beneath the Panyu River bridge.”
Guffaws accompanied their insults, meant for all to hear.
Eyes assessed her up and down like spears and arrows.
A new bride arriving in a foreign land found herself surrounded by choking hostility.
Those who should have protected her—even her own entourage—laughed and sneered.
The gleeful malice in their eyes was sharper than any blade.
“She won’t receive any welcome like that.”
“They refused to change her clothes, thinking it would humble us—now they see their error.”
“Soon she’ll learn her place and behave properly.”
All except Durante and Tarkan’s warriors ridiculed and scorned Aristine.
Then—
With a rustle of cloth, something soft and smooth enveloped her.
‘Huh?’
Before she could comprehend, she was lifted off her feet.
In an instant, her feet left the ground, replaced by hands firmer than the earth itself, cradling her waist and thighs.
“Your Highness.”
A low voice, like a beast’s growl, sounded at her ear.
A shiver ran down her spine as she realized what had happened.
Someone had wrapped her in silk and carried her in their arms.
‘Hmm…?’
Though she knew what was happening, she felt she had misread the situation.
Aristine struggled—but her bearer did not budge.
He lifted her higher, so she rested against his broad chest.
His arms felt warm and solid, holding her as if she weighed nothing.
“Hey! What do you think you’re doing, touching her without permission!”
A Silvanus knight barked at the man.
Not in defense of Aristine, but scandalized at the contact.
“Don’t you know the value of this silk? It’s beyond any gold chest! It was made especially for our princess by the King of Irugo…”
His voice faltered as he saw the man’s unyielding posture.
Mouthed words died on his lips; his eyes trembled like a boat in a storm.
Completely cowed, he glanced for approval.
Aristine watched, puzzled.
‘He didn’t do anything special…?’
She looked up—and their eyes met.
‘Ah—eyes that glitter like sunlight.’
They were beautiful—bright gold, catching her unawares.
“So then, what is it?”
The man’s lips moved around her words, still looking into her eyes.
Though soft-spoken, his tone carried the threat of a roaring beast.
“One gives the finest things to one’s bride, does one not?”
Bride?
Only then did Aristine understand.
She turned to see Durante and the warriors bowing before this man.
A sight to behold—rugged soldiers kneeling in unison.
Behind them stood the Silvanus knights.
They glared in resentment, yet dared not approach or speak.
Never had those haughty fools been so humiliated—by an Irugo they had despised.
His presence demanded deference.
‘So this is—’
Their eyes met again, but this time with full recognition.
‘He is the man I will marry.’
Tarkan cast a single glance at his siblings mocking the princess.
The petty royals looked away, eyes downcast.
Not worth his time, he strode into the palace.
Palace staff knelt to welcome their lord’s return.
“Don’t get any ideas.”
Tarkan set Aristine gently on a grand sofa and spoke curtly.
“Ideas?”
At her response, the palace staff stared in astonishment.
None had ever spoken so freely to their lord.
Normally, even the boldest would shrink under his gaze—yet Aristine showed no fear.
“I am not so pleased as you might think.”
‘Of course not.’
Aristine nodded to herself at his words.
She had never expected otherwise.
She did not need a mirror to know how she looked.
Aristine lifted her arm and sniffed it.
Sweat, not perfume.
‘If you liked me for that, wouldn’t it be dangerous?’
To fall for a dust-clod like her.
Better not misinterpret her.
‘Ah, so he means: don’t mistake me for a pervert.’
They say a strong denial implies affirmation.
‘Then…’
“Pervert?”
“What?”
Tarkan could not fathom what she was saying.
She called him a pervert out of the blue.
Yet her face remained impassive—no flicker of emotion.
‘Doesn’t matter.’
“Have her washed.”
Tarkan clicked his tongue and ordered the staff.
First things first: clean that filthy wretch.
“We’re still not wed.”
She spoke abruptly—he paused, then understood.
Women always wanted this, he thought, and he let slip a crooked smile.
“Don’t worry—I won’t devour you after you’re clean. Who would want a filthy woman like you?”
He cursed himself for the vulgar words; she was not a court lady.
And “filthy” could be misconstrued.
He glanced at Aristine, but soon lost interest.
‘Why bother.’
What she thought was of no consequence.
She was merely the one commanded to marry him. Not important.
“Devour…?”
But when she uttered that word, he couldn’t remain unaffected.
Though he had spoken it first, hearing it from his bride-to-be felt different.
“You…”
She paused, scanned him head to toe, and then stated flatly,
“You’re the pervert, aren’t you?”