A few days after Camilla and Luke were hurried through their wedding at Gerald’s insistence, Pamela too, made frantic preparations and departed from the kingdom.
Apparently, the Asshar Empire had been seeking concubines for some time. The moment the period of mourning ended and Gerald broached the matter of his sister’s marriage, the response had been immediate—by all means, at once, they had agreed, without hesitation.
The Empire, it seemed, was pleased to forge ties with Lapladia, a smaller kingdom that nevertheless prospered through industries such as textiles. They have sent gifts in an overwhelmingly abundant manner for Pamela’s bridal procession.
And almost as soon as Pamela set out for the Asshar Empire, Camilla began living with Luke.
In truth, the preparations that were meant to take the better part of a year for Pamela’s wedding had simply been forced forward—meaning that nothing was properly ready.
A single estate, ‘conveniently’ vacant—was granted to Camilla and Luke as their new home. For a secondhand house to become the residence of a princess and her husband would have been a fine joke, had it not been so blatant. Gerald likely wished to expel Camilla from the royal castle—and from the Shamrock family even one day sooner if he can.
Because everything had been done in haste, there were not enough servants. And yet there were plenty of male retainers: a cook, a gardener, and even private guards. They appeared to be former soldiers who had distinguished themselves in the previous war alongside Luke—men he had hired upon retiring, now that marrying a princess would elevate him to the ranks of nobility.
(If they are Luke’s former comrades, then surely there will be no trouble.)
It was possible they might treat Camilla carelessly, thinking what a pity it is for Luke, because he didn’t get the beautiful younger princess, but instead the leftover elder sister. Yet as long as she had the bare minimum of food, clothing, and shelter, she had no grounds to complain.
Compared to the harsh training she had endured in the mountains as a new novice at the convent, this was practically indulgent.
“There are no female attendants for now,” Luke said after introducing the staff, “but I will hire them as soon as I can.”
With that, he guided Camilla upstairs to the second floor.
In the span of a mere few days, it seemed he had thrown himself into furnishing the place for her. In the mistress bedroom there was a large bed, a new wardrobe, a vanity, and a writing desk.
“…I must apologize. I did not know your measurements, and there was not enough time, so I could not purchase bespoke garments. But I will hire female attendants at once, and have a sufficient number of dresses made for you.”
Perhaps because Camilla’s gaze had drifted toward the wardrobe, Luke hurried to explain.
Once married, it was the husband’s duty to provide for his wife’s clothing. It was a matter of capability—of pride. A wife dressed in shabby garments will reflect poorly upon her husband’s dignity. Luke, too, was likely still in the midst of desperately learning how to live and conduct himself as a noble. When Camilla opened the wardrobe, she found exactly what she had expected: secondhand dresses of varied sizes, in an assortment of patterns and colors.
To be forced to wear dresses bought from a used shop immediately after one’s wedding would have been humiliating for most noblewomen. But if Luke had married Pamela, he would have had ample time to prepare—and given the circumstances, he had done remarkably well.
“It’s all right,” Camilla said gently. “At the convent, I wore much the same thing every day. This is more than enough.”
Camilla was not without a desire to dress nicely. But the convent prized frugality, and there were scarcely any variations in a nun’s habit—she truly had worn nearly the same garments each day.
And besides, whether secondhand or not, these were dresses her husband had run about town to gather for her. That alone was enough to make her glad.
…Or so she meant it.
Yet the instant the words left her mouth, Luke’s expression tightened so abruptly that Camilla felt as though her heart had frozen over.
Her remark had hurt him.
She did not know why—did not know which part had been wrong—but she could see it plainly.
“…I see,” Luke said at last, voice oddly flat. “Then I’m glad.”
“Luke, I–”
“It’s about time for dinner.”
He spoke only that, then turned his back and walked away.
His body language showed he didn’t want to speak right now. Camilla tried calling his name again but then swallowed the words, along with her breath.
That night, with no female attendants yet hired, Camilla washed her own hair and changed into her nightclothes. She was on her way toward the mistress bedroom on the second floor when she stopped short.
(Come to think of it… that bed was for one person.)
It was large, certainly, but just a bit narrow for two adults to sleep comfortably. Which meant that room was meant for Camilla alone—and there must be a separate bedchamber for the couple.
(But since dinner, I haven’t been able to speak with Luke at all…)
After Luke had shown her the mistress bedroom that evening, there had been no real conversation between them.
There was no doubt he had taken offense at what she had said earlier. Even over the dinner prepared by the broad-shouldered cook, they had not exchanged any words. Later, when they went to bathe, Camilla tried to speak to him again, but Luke only nodded in silence.
(…That’s right. Luke is only sixteen.)
Pressing a hand to her forehead, Camilla let out a long sigh.
In Lapladia and the neighboring kingdoms, sixteen marked adulthood, and one could marry at that age. Even so, Luke was still a boy in his mid teens.
He had apparently been raised on battlefields, and was far more composed—and larger than most sixteen-year-olds, giving a sense of maturity. But that did not change the truth, he had only just crossed the threshold from boyhood into adulthood. Things an adult might brush off could still cut deep at his age.
(I must be the one to behave like an adult.)
The marriage itself was already difficult enough for him, with their age difference. If, on top of that, his older wife behaved like a spoiled child, expecting him to read her mind, then of course he would grow tired and irritated.
(I can’t let the day end like this. And besides… today is what they call the “wedding night.”)
The convent where Camilla had lived had been a place of women alone, and perhaps for that reason it had been surprisingly frank when it came to education about the body. Camilla possessed an adequate understanding of what a husband and wife were expected to do on their first night.
(But I can’t imagine myself doing such a thing—much less with Luke as the other person…)
It made her feel like a wicked woman seducing an innocent boy. The guilt was overwhelming, and she could not summon that sort of desire.
In truth, Camilla had never been especially interested in romance or sexual activities. She had expected to remain unmarried all her life, and accepting this reality as her own felt strangely difficult.
(If Luke asks it of me, I should respond as his wife… but–)
Camilla stood in the middle of the second-floor corridor, troubled and uncertain, when she failed to notice footsteps approaching from behind.
“Lady Camilla?”
“Hyaa—!?”
Startled by the sudden voice, Camilla spun around. She recognized him at once by sound alone, yet Luke stood there fresh from his bath, holding a lantern, wearing a blank, faintly puzzled expression.
“Did you… lose your way to your room?”
“No—no, I’m all right,” Camilla said quickly. “I know where it is. It’s just… I wasn’t sure whether I ought to sleep there tonight.”
(I have to say what I’m thinking properly and clearly.)
Flushed with embarrassment, she forced the words out. Luke appeared to take a few seconds to process what she meant—then a furrow formed between his brows.
(Ah… that’s not a good expression.)
“…It is true that today would be what one might call the wedding night,” he said carefully.
“Yes… if I’m meant to share your bed, then I would need to go to the couple’s chamber.”
“…”
Luke continued to look at her, his expression stern. Nothing about him suggested eagerness for a wedding night, and Camilla felt herself wilt—her spirit sinking under the humiliation of having, for a second time in one day, made her husband uncomfortable.
Unable to find her next words, Camilla fell silent.
As if taking pity on her, Luke finally released a quiet sigh.
“…If you are saying this out of a sense of duty, then please be at ease. I have no intention of forcing anything upon you.”
“…”
“Let us sleep separately tonight. My room is that way—if you need anything, you may come to me.”
With that, Luke turned his back to her.
“Then… good night.”
“…Good night, Luke,” Camilla managed, voice hoarse, as she looked at his broad back.
He did not turn around.
