The five days Luke spent in the royal capital passed in the blink of an eye.
He remained as busy as ever, returning to the same routine of leaving early in the morning and coming home at night. It seemed that the only reason he had returned by evening that day was to speak to Camilla about the expedition.
The servants all looked despondent at the thought of Luke being gone for two years, for each of them owed him some debt of gratitude or friendship. If anything, the one least troubled by his absence might have been Camilla herself.
On the fifth and final day, Luke still did not return until nightfall. Normally he came home only once Camilla had already fallen asleep, but the maid told her that tonight he had arrived while Camilla was still preparing for bed.
(Perhaps he wishes to sleep early, at least, to be ready for tomorrow.)
Camilla hesitated over whether to say welcome home and good night, but she wanted him to have even one extra minute of sleep, so she decided against it.
She dismissed the maid and was about to retire when there came a knock at her door.
(Is it the maid?)
Thinking someone had forgotten a message, Camilla opened the door and froze.
It was not a small maid in an apron, but her husband, wearing a plain sleep shirt.
“Luke…?”
“Forgive the late hour, Lady Camilla.”
He looked fully ready for bed, and Camilla immediately regretted not having gone to greet him. She should have gone herself, rather than making him come to her.
“No, it’s all right. I’m sorry I didn’t come to greet you.”
“Please don’t mind it. Besides, I’m not here to sleep yet…”
Luke broke off, then averted his gaze.
“Lady Camilla. Tomorrow morning I will leave this estate. The next time I return will be two years from now.”
“…Yes.”
“So, it isn’t only because of that, but… in order to do my utmost over the next two years… would you spend tonight with me, in my bedchamber?”
Camilla had braced herself for almost anything. The words Luke spoke, stumbling over them as he did, left her staring blankly.
In the dim corridor she had not noticed at first, but now she saw it. Luke’s cheeks were red, and not only his cheeks. Even his neck was flushed.
From the way he spoke and carried himself, it was easy to understand that “spend the night together” did not mean merely sharing a bed.
“…Pardon?”
“To be kept waiting for two years is… difficult,” Luke admitted, his voice sinking as though he wished he could vanish into the floor. “And also… we still haven’t even had our wedding night.”
With that, his meaning was unmistakable.
(So… my plan for a white marriage is over.)
Unlike Luke, who was plainly flustered by embarrassment and tension, Camilla found herself strangely calm. Perhaps when shock and emotion gathered too densely, the mind circled around and arrived at composure.
Camilla lifted a hand and gently touched Luke’s cheek. His skin twitched beneath her fingers, and the small reaction made something in her chest ache.
“I don’t mind. But are you sure you do?”
“…Before I depart, I want to know you,” Luke said, his expression tightening with earnest resolve. “I want to see the you that no one else knows.”
Camilla had meant ‘Won’t you need rest for tomorrow?,’ Yet Luke had interpreted her question in an entirely different direction and answered with such seriousness that Camilla’s tension slipped away almost helplessly.
When a husband asked, a good wife was meant to respond with obedience.
“All right… will you lead the way?”
“…Yes,” Luke replied. “Gladly.”
He took the hand she offered, almost as though in surrender, and bowed over it with utmost care. Then he pressed a kiss to her knuckles.
The next morning, while Camilla lay stretched out in bed, Luke quietly left the estate.
She had thought it would end quickly, Luke had not released her until dawn, and Camilla was left utterly exhausted. Yet according to the maids, Luke “departed with a remarkably crisp and composed expression.” Whether his stamina was monstrous because he was young or because he trained so thoroughly, she could not tell.
Luke had apparently entrusted all of his assets to Camilla. When the butler reported the total, Camilla was stunned. He had said he had enough savings to ensure she would not want, but with that sum, Camilla alone could have lived lavishly for years.
Luke had also spoken to knights at the castle on her behalf, arranging that several men would come if she ever needed protection. Though he was young and newly made a knight, Luke had already secured firm allies within the order. It seemed her late father truly had possessed an eye for talent.
Luke’s expedition was in the mountainous eastern edge of the kingdom. But as he had said, the postal routes were well maintained. Letters would take time, but correspondence was possible.
And yet, Camilla did not know what to write to a husband she was not truly close with, and no letters came from Luke either. She told herself she would write only if something worth reporting occurred.
Then it did.
“…Pregnant?”
“Yes. I believe the child will be born within this year.”
When the physician congratulated her with a smile, Camilla lowered her hand to her abdomen.
Since late winter of the previous year, she had often felt unwell. Her monthly bleeding had also stopped, and though she had suspected it, she continued to summon the physician for examinations. At the beginning of spring, the pregnancy was confirmed.
Her belly had not yet begun to swell, but there was a tiny life within her. The physician seemed somewhat concerned by the husband’s absence, but when he counted backward and realized the conception had occurred while Luke was still in the capital, he appeared reassured.
Of course, Camilla had never been with any man other than Luke in her entire life. But for her to have conceived from that single night, on the eve of his departure, was something she had never imagined.
(Perhaps this child has come to tell me not to run from Luke, but to live as husband and wife.)
After the physician left, Camilla sipped fruit water and let the thought settle.
When she first learned Luke would leave on expedition, Camilla had planned to use the two years of their unconsummated marriage as grounds to dissolve their union. But now she is pregnant. Whether the child was a boy or a girl, she could no longer flee from Luke.
No. She must not.
“My lady,” asked the maid who attended to Camilla’s daily needs, “will you write to his lordship?”
The maid’s eyes sparkled with such unmistakable expectation that Camilla could only let out a small, wry smile.
“Of course I will. But… won’t it distract him from his duties if I tell him?”
“It will be fine, if anything, his lordship will work even harder for your sake and the child’s!”
Smiling back, Camilla had the maid bring writing supplies, then dipped her pen into the ink.
When the household learned of her pregnancy, everyone rejoiced. The cooks were already discussing weaning foods, and the maids were in an uproar about where to buy swaddling cloth and what sort of cradle would be best.
Camilla had informed her brother and his wife at the castle as well, but no reply came. She also sent word to Pamela in the Asshar Empire, though that letter would surely take far longer to arrive than one sent to Luke.
For now, Camilla wrote that she was with child and due to give birth within the year, that she had occasional bouts of nausea but was healthy at present, and that the household was celebrating even more enthusiastically than she was herself. She entrusted the letter to the butler for dispatch.
The butler, too, accepted the letter with trembling care, tears in his eyes, as though he were about to welcome a grandchild of his own.
