TEWRIT 81

Chapter 81

Viscount Otti dared not speak lightly of the emperor’s “wrath of the sun.” For someone like him, the emperor was a vastly elevated being beyond his reckoning.

Eliano beckoned Otti closer. When he approached, she whispered softly:

“Why do you think I wrote that letter for you? To use it as a shield—did I need to spell that out?”

She clicked her tongue, impatient. Did he really need everything spoon-fed?

Otti’s eyes darted around. Of course: with the Duchess’s letter, both Count Maurice and even His Majesty could be compelled to act! He could now safely shift all responsibility onto her.

“Then I’ll send the gate fee bill to the Imperial Palace. I will also include the Duchess’s letter with it. Marquess Hemenez! Come speak with me at once!”

Visibly unwilling to deal more with Eliano, Otti summoned Marquess Hemenez instead.

“Marquess Hemenez, since the Duchess has settled the fee matter, please provide the full list of travelers using the gate.”

The quick-witted Oliver smiled and handed over documents.

“All of them will travel via the gate, Your Grace. Their names, as well as the number of horses and wagons, are listed. You can calculate the full fee from that.”

Otti’s face turned ashen as he gasped:

“Are you sure all these people are using the gate…?”

“Of course. They travel together, without delay. All at once.”

A large group traveling simultaneously meant the bill would double.

Otti accepted the paperwork in a daze, then shuffled toward the mage as if his soul had been drained—defeated.

On the carriage, Eliano suddenly felt dizzy. The magic gate had activated.

As she steadied herself with a hand to her forehead, Flint caught her shoulder with gentle care. Leaning on him, Eliano gave him a cautious glance.

Ever since the confrontation with Otti, Flint had remained silent. His face expressionless as usual—making it hard for Eliano to know how he felt.

Outside, there was slight commotion—signaling the completion of gate procedures—but this time there was no ridiculous demand like having to disembark. Flint stayed put.

When the carriage resumed moving, their eyes locked. Eliano swallowed dryly at the subdued gray gaze in his eyes.

She felt she should say something, but didn’t know what.

He clearly didn’t want trouble—especially involving the emperor. Eliano recognized how much he watched imperial mood and protocols.

In Bianteca’s nobility, it was expected to respect the emperor—like Duke Rosana does. But Flint’s caution seemed extreme.

Just as she sighed, about to speak:

“I did not marry you because you were Lady Rosana’s daughter.”

Flint’s words startled her. It was unexpected, yet somehow… fitting.

—“Don’t forget you married the daughter of Rosana.”—

He was answering that now.

If she asked “Did you marry me out of love?”, he couldn’t say yes. But he didn’t marry her because of her lineage either.

“I love you.”

He confessed softly. Eliano’s green eyes fluttered.

“That’s why I married you.”

Flint’s face remained composed, his gray eyes calm—but the warmth behind them was unmistakable to her.

“I—I know that already…”

She hesitated.

“You said you didn’t want an arranged marriage. But it doesn’t change the fact you are Rosana’s blood.”

She referenced their earlier conversation. Even if Flint deeply loved her, her being the daughter of Rosana was still a fact.

Only a fool would ignore that—otherwise, she misjudged her husband.

“I know. I married you knowing everything.”

He said softly, his gaze steady and sincere.

She smiled, almost shyly.

“I realized I didn’t tell you something else.”

Flint’s eyes met hers again, curious.

“Thank you for saving me.”

His reply was curt:

“I don’t deserve your thanks, Lady Eliano.”

But Eliano was warm:

“No. You came alone into the forest to find me.”

“A husband should rescue his wife.”

That might seem expected—but not everyone did it. Eliano felt a pang remembering that.

“There’s so much I owe you—I don’t know how to repay you. I have no dowry… because of what happened with my father.”

“It’s not needed,” Flint cut in.

“And in marriage, words like ‘repayment’ aren’t necessary. What I did was natural.”

He spoke firmly, but kindly.

Eliano thought of her father, Rosana’s anger still embedded in her tone. Much of her understanding of men came from her previous life—shaped by experiences with her former husband. She was Biantecan by birth, but years in Zacaedor lent her a blend of both perspectives.

Before, she had learned that being raised in Zacaedor made her strong—her former husband often struck her for showing too much spirit.

Flint, by contrast, found her gentle and compliant—traits that perfectly suited the north. Northern society was reserved; she would need strong support there.

Flint thought of who could assist her socially. Noble young women in House Howard’s care: the daughter of Count Hirun, the Scilla­men Marchioness, or the daughter of Count Pailin—all trusted names.

“There is a noblewoman staying at Howard Manor,” Flint began cautiously.

Eliano’s gaze froze. Staying at House Howard? A gentlewoman?

“Her name is Miss Pailin. She was adopted into the family to continue the line.”

House Pailin was an ancient, respected family in the north—renowned for martial loyalty to House Howard.

Eliano forced a polite smile.

“So she’s close to Your Grace, then?”

Plint, unbothered, explained:

“Miss Pailin stays at the annex while we treat her. Illness is rare; many doctors refuse her case. My family’s physician oversees her treatment.”

“Your family physician is well regarded,” Eliano said quietly.

“Indeed. Morgan is exceptionally skilled. We owe her much.”

Flint’s voice was earnest, relieved.

“And some of the medicine only grows in my lands. That’s why Miss Pailin remains here.”

Relief seeded Eliano’s thoughts: Flint had no special affection for Pailin. She stayed out of the main house—encounters would be rare.

“If I need to choose a handmaiden, would Miss Pailin’s companion be suitable?”

Handmaids in House Howard were carefully selected—noble by rank, trusted companions and informants in social circles.

“She’s respected in northern society. She would serve you well.”

Eliano faintly smiled. A noblewoman in society implied at least some health and ability.

Though she had commanded Zacaedor’s sphere before—even though she had no child—Eliano felt confident in her ability to manage Northern society. If provoked, she would firmly set boundaries.

“I’ll consider it.”

She gazed out the window, gathering thoughts. Upon reaching the north, she would have a proper wedding ceremony, a marriage mass, and choose her handmaid.

The excitement of arriving in the north fluttered in her. She had married Flint to avoid repeating the misery of her previous life. She was relieved she wasn’t bound to Zacaedor any longer.

Though the north was cold and sparing, people still lived well enough. Flint was sensible, born in Northern lands—she didn’t fear any scandal.

Thinking of Flint’s handsome face reflected in the window, her mind drifted to their time in the cave.

He had confessed love and then consented to… intimacy. That memory flickered in her mind.

She smiled softly at how innocent he looked versus how passionate he had been. That gentle deception—a face without combusting the heart.

Flint tilted his head in curiosity.

“Why are you smiling?”

Eliano turned to meet his gaze, teasing slightly.

“It reminded me of our first night together.”

“Our first night?” Flint’s cheeks reddened.

“In that forest cave,” Eliano clarified.

Her boldness knocked him silent.

“I’d like to see that face again.”

Flint cleared his throat, face flush.

Then recovered composure and replied:

“I would like to see something too.”

“My body? Want me to show it now?”