Tarkan’s brow twitched at the humiliating misunderstanding.
“I seem to recall saying I wouldn’t devour you.”
Aristine, watching him intently, flicked her gaze away and murmured,
“Merely thinking that itself is….”
To think of a dust-clod like me that way.
She had omitted the rest to respect his, um, particular tastes.
“You were the one who mentioned we’re not wed.”
Tarkan ground out in a low voice.
But such threats held no sway over Aristine.
“I did speak first… but that wasn’t what I meant.”
She examined him coolly from head to toe.
“You’re not exactly clean yourself.”
Are you so filthy yet won’t wash?
Her eyes seemed to ask that.
For the first time, Tarkan glimpsed her thoughts.
And a question arose in his mind.
‘What sort of woman is this?’
“We cannot bathe together before marriage.”
So they must bathe in order. Aristine had merely stated the obvious.
Tarkan looked down at himself.
His clothing was splattered with beast’s blood; he’d returned straight from the hunt.
When he’d carried the woman swathed in silk, it had been hidden—but now no fabric concealed it.
His bride’s first view of him was as a bloodstained warrior. But Tarkan did not mind.
Those stains marked victory—the pride of a warrior.
Yet she called it filthy, “utterly” filthy.
How could dust and filth compete with the blood of battle?
‘Come to think of it…’
She was the Silvanus princess; he expected her to blanch or scream at the sight of blood.
Even Irugo folk born to battle recoil at a warrior’s blood.
But this woman remained unshaken—no fear, no awe.
“……”
Nothing about his bride matched any expectation.
‘A strange woman.’
But that was all.
He would not entangle himself further. She would be princess by name only.
“I will wash elsewhere.”
“Ah.”
At his words, Aristine gave a small nod.
In a palace, there were surely many bathing rooms.
She knew that in her head; confinement had simply numbed her to such thoughts.
“Very well.”
Aristine rose hastily from the sofa.
She felt a surge of pleasure.
‘In a proper palace bath, surely there will be hot water?’
She did not ask much—lukewarm would suffice.
‘No—just not ice cold…’
Tarkan watched the inscrutable woman.
What was she thinking now?
‘Not sizing up ordinary folk as perverts again, I hope.’
He narrowed his eyes, but read nothing.
The hall had no doors—pillars opened into corridors and gardens.
So even as Aristine followed the attendant out, her slender back remained in view.
Each step made the red silk flutter like wings.
“Prince Tarkan.”
At the summons, Tarkan turned.
“Diona.”
Diona approached with a soft laugh, slipping her hand onto his solid arm.
“How could you be so lost in thought, Your Highness? What were you pondering?”
At her words, Tarkan frowned.
He realized too late he’d been preoccupied with the woman.
“I wasn’t thinking of anything.”
“Is that so?”
Though unconvinced, Diona said no more.
Pressing further would only annoy him.
Instead, she adopted a gentle tone to broach Aristine.
“Your Highness… she is quite different from my expectations.”
Tarkan nodded absently. His golden eyes showed no interest.
‘Hm, he really doesn’t care for her. Well, I supposed as much.’
Diona stifled a pleased smile and leaned closer with a worried look.
“What could possess her to arrive in such a state? Especially when marrying you. It does not reflect well…”
She trailed off sweetly, stroking his forearm.
“There must be a reason.”
“A reason…?”
“You saw how my insufferable siblings mocked her. She could not be foolish enough not to foresee that. Nor did she seem intent on humiliating me.”
When Tarkan defended Aristine, Diona was surprised.
She had never heard him praise someone he barely knew.
But she quickly regained her composure and lowered her gaze submissively.
Tarkan’s tone had not risen, but she sensed his mood darken.
Quick to notice, Diona withdrew from his arm and straightened.
“Still… she’s an enigma.”
At her words, Tarkan involuntarily glanced toward the corridor where Aristine had vanished.
“Yes. Truly an unknowable woman.”
Diona paused and met his gaze.
His eyes remained cold, expressionless—no hint of warmth.
But Diona’s smile faded.
“Indeed.”
Murmuring to herself, Tarkan thought of the woman.
Her expression had never changed—from their meeting to her departure—so blank it seemed emotionless.
Though slight shifts occurred, they were subtle.
Her most vivid expression had been then—when he held her.
Those round, violet eyes had widened completely, so small and light she’d startled him.
‘I thought she might cry.’
Alone and humiliated, she might weep.
But up close, she had not. Her blank face seemed composed—unmoved rather than frightened.
‘Raised as Silvanus’s princess, she couldn’t be used to such treatment.’
He wondered why that noble blood arrived alone in filthy rags.
An unknowable woman.
The woman who would be his wife.
My bride.
He had never been aware of her thus when their match was arranged.
“Prince Tarkan.”
Diona’s voice pulled him back.
“Could it be you’ve taken a liking to the princess?”
‘Hot water! And a tub too!’
From the moment Aristine saw the steaming tub, bliss flooded her.
“Allow me to assist.”
She let the palace attendants strip her and begin to wash her.
Except for early childhood, she had never had a bath-in-attendant—it felt strange, but she was royalty by birth.
She felt no shame being seen.
Aristine had never cared for others’ gazes. Raised alone, she had no one’s approval to seek.
‘They know their craft.’
They washed her without complaint, with swift, respectful motions.
Aristine’s state was filthy enough to make anyone recoil.
Yet they frowned at no point.
Their words were strictly business: “Is this water too hot?” “Shall I use gentler pressure?”
Having endured mockery from her maids, this professionalism impressed her.
‘Good palace staff means a capable, charismatic prince.’
Competent negotiators were valuable.
“Please close your eyes again.”
Warm water traced her features.
Eyes closed, Aristine reflected on Tarkan—on her future actions.
‘Hm…?’
Lost in thought, she sensed something amiss.
The hands washing her face stilled.
‘All done already?’
She opened her eyes to find an attendant frozen, mouth agape.
“Oh…”
The attendant’s lashes, wet and drooping, trembled with water droplets.
And those violet eyes—mystical as the dawn sky—shone fully.
Aristine blinked away the water and looked to the other attendants.
They were no different—every pair of hands paused as they gazed at her.
“Is there a problem?”
At her question, the attendants regained composure and bowed their heads.
“No, Your Highness.”
“We apologize.”
Aristine wondered at their reaction, but said nothing further.
After rinsing a few more times, she finally stepped into the tub.
‘Ah, this is glorious.’
Sending the attendants away, Aristine leaned her head on the tub’s edge, blissful.
Her body relaxed completely.
Already she felt marrying into Irugo was the right choice.
‘I’ll postpone my plans and rest for now.’
As if the waters read her mind, ripples stirred.
Sensing something reflected, Aristine frowned.
‘It always shows up at moments like this.’
She would delay resting—first she must see this through.
‘…Tarkan?’
In the water’s reflection stood her betrothed.
Beside him was the dark-blue-haired woman—the one she had glimpsed in her vision.
‘When was this? Probably today—near future or recent past. Or the present.’
He wore the same attire.
No matter his taste for matching outfits, he would not still wear the bloodstained one.
She saw the sofa where he had set her down.
‘…When will he bathe?’
Even a political marriage shouldn’t require enduring a filthy husband.
Aristine hoped the vision was past.
‘Please let him be washing right now.’
Then the woman in the water spoke.
[Have you grown fond of the princess?]
Aristine started.
‘Wait—was she talking about me?’
Meeting one’s future spouse, the topic was natural.
‘What behavior earns him that question?’
To be suspected of liking a dust-clod.
‘Truly a pervert.’
[What?]
Tarkan’s reflection looked down at the woman, voice low.
He was handsome—remarkably so, even among the countless men she’d seen through her visions.
Just that lowered gaze exuded both beastly languor and danger.
The woman before him shrank slightly at that look.
[Do you like her?]
His tone was leisurely—opposite of his earlier ire.
Yet that calm made him more dangerous.
[Impossible.]
Tarkan let out a small laugh, one corner of his mouth curling upward.
This was likely his true demeanor.
[You know as well as I do.]
His golden eyes slid sideways.
[My heart does not change.]
After her bath, Aristine was shown to her chamber by the attendants.
“Shall I fetch your ladies-in-waiting? You may feel unsettled still learning the palace.”
The attendant asked gently.
Since Irugo staff had cared for her since arrival, perhaps she longed for Silvanus maids.
But Aristine found Irugo attendants far more comfortable.
“No. It’s fine.”
“Understood. I will lead you to your room.”
“No.”
Aristine stopped the attendant.
“Show me to Tarkan.”
“As you wish.”
Though puzzled, the attendant bowed and departed without another word.
‘I’d like rest too, but…’
A month on the carriage—subject to endless petty torments—had left her unwashed and weary.
Now clean and clad in new clothes, she felt perfect happiness.
The Irugo garments were warm and soft—luxury beyond compare.
A night in these blankets would be perfect.
‘But first, I must secure his cooperation.’
Tarkan waited not far from the hall.
“Your Highness, the princess has arrived.”
The attendant announced, but no reply came.
She sensed he did not welcome her visit.
‘Perhaps because he was with that woman earlier.’
Aristine recalled the dark-blue-haired woman who had served tea.
‘I would have preferred one-on-one at the negotiation table.’
Yet this might prove advantageous.
Her leverage could grow stronger.
Political marriage need not include love.
If that woman were Tarkan’s lover, asserting that fact could strengthen her position.
‘One more thing.’
Though love was unnecessary, a child of both houses was essential.
‘But I do not want that.’
That would be a powerful card.
Even if he did not seek love, he would want his child on the throne.
But Aristine wanted only freedom.
She wished to see with her own eyes the visions that had shown her only reflections.
To go where she willed, see what she willed, eat what she willed.
To act unbound by anyone.
That was her goal.
‘And that requires money.’
She set aside her business ideas for now.
First, she needed Tarkan’s cooperation.
At her signal, the door—once firmly closed—swung open.
Stepping inside, she saw Tarkan.
He turned toward the door with a weary look—then froze in surprise.
His eyes widened, betraying unspoken emotion.
Beside him stood the woman from her vision.
Likely the one who had attended his tea.
‘I did not think her a maid.’
But maids need not be the only ones to serve tea.
The woman stared at Aristine with equally startled eyes.
Then she glanced at Tarkan’s expression—her gaze faltering.
‘What is this?’
Aristine entered the room with a question on her lips.
“…Princess?”
Tarkan managed at last.
Aristine nodded, returning his puzzled look.
Despite her silent inquiry, Tarkan could speak no answer.
‘Is that truly the princess?’