Callis stood by the window, looking out upon the grounds of Castle Berk.
He was dressed for the ball, but his sleeve was rolled up.
He had been examining his arm.
Not that long ago it had been unsightly and unusable, afflicted for many years by the painful sores that had covered it.
Now, there was no sign of it.
His arm was as strong and healthy as any knight’s.
And around the wrist of that arm, he wore the odd but entrancing demonstone bracelet.
“Seria,” Callis murmured to himself.
Esteemed daughter of the Marquis of Keliden, a prestigious nobleman from the western territories.
Her birth mother, however, enjoyed no such noble status.
She was a common woman with a common name and a common profession, though she was uncommonly beautiful.
The Marquis of Keliden had certainly thought so, enough to act unfaithfully to his wife and family and then dare to bring the illegitimate baby Seria into his household.
It was no secret, and Seria had been largely ignored by her family.
Her two half-brothers had never treated her like a sister, and they’d been seen to shudder at the mere mention of her name.
Callus had to admit that their reactions were understandable.
Aside from the fact that she’d been born of another woman, Callis himself was all too familiar with Seria’s former indulgences.
Even in her youth, Seria was known to espouse luxuries beyond her means.
Hardly a day went by when a jewel merchant or dressmaker wouldn’t show up from the capital, summoned by Seria.
One jewel in particular, which Seria had recklessly purchased, was a blue diamond the size of a quail’s egg.
It was a much sought-after gemstone, even allegedly coveted by Empress Azriel herself.
So astronomical was the price paid for the stone that rumors had swirled about the Marquis of Keliden having to sell one of his islands just to pay the bill.
Never strong to begin with, her relationship with her family continued to deteriorate as she got older.
At fifteen, after becoming a Sterne, Seria left the Keliden Marquisate altogether, taking up residence in one of the High Church’s terraced houses in the capital.
Around the same time, Callis moved to the Hanneton manor in the capital.
He saw Seria at every distinguished ball he attended, and she was always harassing someone or causing mischief.
One unforgettable instance occurred when Seria expressed her distaste for a noblewoman’s dress by pouring a glass of wine all over her.
Seria then stepped back to admire her work, saying, “The funny thing is, the dress doesn’t look any more hideous than it did before!”
Unable to bear such blatant discourtesy, Callis stepped in to rescue the noblewoman.
Thus, he himself became the object of Seria’s fury.
“What is this?” she had screeched.
“A fellow noble of the western territories, and yet you dare to deliberately insult me?
Are we not fellows from the west?
Have you come to this ball in search of a new enemy?
You shall have it!”
In those days, Seria’s reputation was both well-known and feared.
Anyone might have guessed what was coming next.
It was not long before Seria exacted her revenge on Callis.
It was Seria who poured the poison known as sanmirone onto his arm.
Sanmirone was actually a rather mild poison.
Entering through the skin, it caused stiffness, aches, and irritation that lasted a few days at most.
The danger with sanmirone was its tendency to react violently with certain other substances, one of them being an herb called langrove.
It just so happened that Callis had eaten a soup containing langrove that same day.
His maid and former nanner, Elder Lady Roslyn, had prepared the nourishing soup for Callis because he was feeling under the weather, and she added a pinch of langrove because it was known to replenish strength.
However, langrove was uncommon.
It had been deemed illegal by the royal court due to its narcotic properties.
And so nobody, including Seria, would have suspected that Callis had it in his system.
As a result of the toxic combination, one of Callis’s arms slowly began to decay.
Furious and also depressed with his misfortune, Callis was in a tight spot.
He could neither accuse Seria nor seek out treatment from the priestesses of the High Church.
Doing so would reveal his consumption of the illegal herb, which might have put Elder Lady Roslyn in jeopardy.
Callis had but few choices.
He concealed the gradual decay of his arm, seeking relief only from traditionally prepared anesthetic ointments and drinks.
As it got worse, he began to mentally prepare himself for the loss of his arm.
But one day, out of the blue, Seria Sterne appeared.
She knelt before him and bowed her head deeply.
She had come to tell him that she had discovered a way to heal his arm.
And although he had no reason at all to trust her, he noticed something in her eyes.
Something different than the notorious, vengeful eyes feared throughout all of high society.
Something warm, honest, and somehow afraid.
So he followed her to a small, quiet church on the outskirts of the capital.
“Please wait here,” she said.
Seria returned after several hours, looking disheveled.
From a bag she carried, she took out several herbs with long, yellow flowers.
“What is that?” Callis said cautiously.
He still did not fully trust her.
“It is a medicinal herb.
We can use this to heal your arm.”
Seria applied the crushed herb to Callis’s arm and then wrapped it in a bandage.
“How is that?
Any better?”
Callis could not believe it.
All discomfort had gone from his arm.
“Can we get more of this herb?” Callis had asked.
“Not here,” admitted Seria.
“Perhaps elsewhere, but I cannot take them from here.
They are not mine.”
“Not yours?”
“The owner will return in about a year.”
Callis did not understand, but he let it slide because he was so pleased by the relief he felt in his disfigured arm.
He was also distracted by the sudden prospect that it might just be possible to heal the arm completely after all.
But with Seria, he never knew.
Her behavior was just as difficult to interpret as her words.
“Then where did you get this herb?”
“From a cliff below the church.”
“What?
You climbed down a cliff?”
“I did,” she replied, her voice steady and confident, but she averted her eyes.
And Callis noticed.
Everything about her demeanor was completely different from the icy glares she used to give him.
And now, without her sharp tongue, her threatening gaze, or her curt indifference, he had seen, perhaps for the first time, why she was considered one of the most beautiful women in the capital.
But her manner, when had it begun to change?
It was like she’d been suddenly reformed.
Some might even call it a miracle of the High Church.
“Why are you doing this for me?” he asked, puzzled.
“You?”
“Because I have done you harm.
I want to atone for all of my mistakes.”
This encounter initiated their friendship, and some time later Callis proposed to Seria, offering her the emerald ring that had been passed down by the ladies of House Hanneton.
He still remembered how beautiful she had looked after he asked her.
She was flustered, speechless, and she could not seem to take her eyes off the emerald.
“Seria…”
How much had changed in such little time.
Still standing by the window, Callis clenched his fist.
He truly loved Seria.
Even though the wedding had gone wrong and she had been forced to marry the Archduke of Berk, he still loved her.
He knew that their marriage was only a temporary arrangement, like his own.
And it was not only Callis; all the nobles in the castle assumed the same.
As for Lina, Callis did intend to seek an annulment from her.
Though he had to admit, there was something vexingly attractive about her.
She was different from any woman he had ever known.
She was imperfect, but instead of hiding her flaws, as all the nobility did, she openly displayed them.
She unhesitatingly expressed her thoughts when things were difficult to understand or accept.
And she was pitifully incapable of taking care of herself in this world.
He often wondered how she fared in her own world.
And then, there was the issue of politics.
As the Marquis who ruled over the western region of Hanneton, it was politically beneficial to build a rapport with the Saint because when she became a more capable member of the nobility, she would have significant influence in the capital.
It would be an incredible boon for his dominion, but he didn’t want to lose Seria for such gains.
He refused to simply let go of Seria.
All through yesterday he had been half out of his mind with grief, unable to think or act rationally because Seria suddenly belonged to another man.
A good night’s sleep had helped, and he woke with a much clearer perspective on the whole ordeal.
Seria, on the other hand, was still furious.
He would need to give her time to cool off.
Then, maybe, he could get her to listen to his apology and perhaps even accept it.
Suddenly, one of Callis’s knights rushed in.
He was a knight stationed in Seria’s annex, so seeing him, Callis immediately expected trouble.
“My Lord!
You need to come with me.
The Lady Saint has been searching all over the castle for Lady Begonia.
She entered Lady Seria’s annex.”
“Why would…?” If Lina upset Seria again, there was no telling what Seria might do.
Callis sighed and said, “Yes, I suppose I shall have to.”
Callis headed towards the annex but when he got there, he found the entrance guarded not only by knights but by the archduke himself.
* * *
At the same time that Callis had been by his window, Lennon was complaining to Rouche.
“Your Highness,” he said, “the lady nearly died at her own wedding.
She lost a lot of blood.
Do you think it is right to give her so many responsibilities so soon?”
“Better to keep busy,” Rouche answered without looking up.
He was checking over some documents, documents in which the ‘sorcerer’ appeared more times than any normal follower of the High Church would feel comfortable with.
Any association with so-called sorcerers was deemed heretical.
But Rouche flipped through the papers with casual ease, perusing them with interest.
Suddenly, he lifted his head and stared at Lennon.
“How odd.
Why are you standing up for the lady?”
“I appreciate people who work quickly.”
“What kind of reason is that?” Rouche scoffed.
But, actually, Lennon had spoken sincerely.
Seria had proven to be incredibly efficient with all of the tasks passed on to her.
Thanks to her, the castle had been completely transformed in just a single day.
Red ribbons and mistletoe decorations hung along every wall of every corridor.
The fabric of nearly every piece of furniture had been replaced.
And the banquet for that very evening was looking to be the best they’d had in years.
It was as if she had done it all by magic.
“How will the demons of the green manor react when they meet Lady Seria?” Lennon mused aloud.
“Good question,” said Rouche blankly.
“I do look forward to it,” Lennon chuckled.
“But, Your Highness, we really ought to give Lady Seria a heads-up about the manor.
There is a lot at stake.
Perhaps it is only temporary, but you are indeed married.
So you should face such things together and without secrets.”
“She has proven she can hold her own in tough spots.”
“Perhaps she has, but the manor might prove to be quite tricky…”
Rouche glanced down to reread the document in his hand.
…lastly, the response to the summons for six sorcerers from the Kingdom of Nessla has been received, stating that…
“I suppose I should tell her.”
Rouche set down the documents and rose from his seat.
He planned to pick up Seria on his way to the ball.
Temporary or not, he had a duty to escort his wife.
However, he did not expect to run into Callis at Seria’s annex again.