Chapter 1 - Chapter 1

Translator: Nox

“The King has no intention of visiting this evening.”

The sharp, condescending tone of Marchioness Magnum struck Elfreda, causing a momentary pause in her movements, though she didn’t let it show.

She had already anticipated this outcome. From the moment the wedding began, she hadn’t felt a single spark of warmth from her new husband or his subjects. This cold reception had been her constant companion since she first set foot in the Kingdom of Machi; it was simply the status quo.

The atmosphere of resentment was entirely predictable.

She had traveled from the distant Makaeri Empire to be here. Despite her mixed heritage, the royal blood of Makaeri flowed in her veins. To the people of this land, she was a living reminder of the “savages” responsible for the deaths of their previous sovereign and his heir.

Elfreda reminded herself that she couldn’t afford to feel wounded by the malice of a man whose uncle and cousin had been slain by her own grandfather. If the public knew her thoughts, they would surely brand her as a woman without shame or humility.

As she gathered her internal strength, the Marchioness spoke again with an air of superiority.

“We shall begin removing the Queen’s bridal attire immediately—”

“Head Lady-in-waiting!”

The doors flew open as a servant burst into the room, breathless with a startling update.

“His Majesty is here!”

The Marchioness lost her composure for a heartbeat, her arrogant mask slipping. However, she was a seasoned veteran of the court who had served the previous queen, and she quickly regained her poise.

“Are you certain?” she demanded.

“Yes, Ma’am. His carriage just passed through the palace gates…!”

“Make way for the King!”

The herald’s voice echoed through the hall, followed by the heavy rhythm of approaching boots. Hearing that the sovereign was at the door, the attendants who had been hovering around Elfreda to undress her instinctively ducked their heads and scrambled out of the way.

Elfreda watched, somewhat dazed, as a powerful figure entered the chamber. He possessed the same towering stature as her father, a man of the steppes, and she found she had to crane her neck just to meet his eyes.

Even in the dim evening light, his hair was a striking, radiant gold that seemed to glow, drawing her gaze instantly.

As she looked up, she was met by eyes the color of a dense, sun-drenched forest in midsummer.

Captivated by that intense gaze, Elfreda stood frozen, forgetting the proper protocols of greeting. She had been so certain he wouldn’t appear that his presence left her completely disoriented.

She wasn’t the only one caught off guard.

“Your Majesty… this is a surprise. What brings you to these quarters?”

Marchioness Magnum’s voice wavered with visible agitation. The King spared her only a fleeting, disinterested glance.

“Is it such a shock for a husband to visit his wife’s rooms on their wedding night?”

Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t be. But for this specific union, it was shocking.

The King had radiated hostility throughout the day, clearly loathing the fact that he was bound to a woman sharing the bloodline of his family’s killers. Everyone had assumed he would spend the night as far from her as possible.

Then, a realization struck the Marchioness.

A total absence on the wedding night would be a massive diplomatic blunder.

Elfreda was the bridge of a peace treaty. There were appearances to maintain, no matter how much bitterness simmered beneath the surface.

The Marchioness concluded that this was merely a brief, formal appearance. With a self-assured smile, she lowered her head.

“Please forgive our lack of readiness, Sire. We did not expect you so soon.”

“There is no need for preparation,” he replied.

The Marchioness waited for him to finish the thought by saying he was leaving, but his next words were a sharp jab.

“Why are you all still standing there?”

The King’s tone made her heart skip a beat.

This wasn’t following the script.

“I asked if you were leaving.”

Something was wrong.

“Or do you plan to stay and observe the consummation of my marriage?”

The Marchioness was so rattled she forgot her place, staring up at him in disbelief. His glare wasn’t fixed on the foreign bride, but on her—as if she were a common trespasser.

Stunned into silence, her lips worked soundlessly before she bit her tongue and bowed deeply.

“My apologies, Your Majesty. We are leaving at once.”

The attendants filed out in a hurried blur, leaving Elfreda in total isolation with the King. She continued to watch him, her mind struggling to process the shift in the room.

‘Ejnar Machi.’

She repeated the name she had recently learned, letting the syllables echo in her mind. He was a man of flawless, intimidating beauty, and his name seemed to carry that same weight of perfection.

As she stood there staring…

“Your face will freeze in that expression if you aren’t careful.”

Before the dry remark could sink in, Ejnar turned his full attention toward her.

Elfreda felt a wave of heat rush to her cheeks. She knew she had been caught staring, and the embarrassment was overwhelming. She dropped her gaze to the floor and whispered a soft apology.

Ejnar walked toward her, his expression one of clear irritation.

The distance was short, yet the sound of his boots on the floor made her pulse thrum with increasing violence.

“Look at me.”

His cold fingers brushed against her chin, tilting her face upward.

Elfreda was forced to look at him. They were standing as close as they had during the vows, and she found it suddenly difficult to draw a full breath.

“A woman in your position should not be so quick to hang her head.”

His critical tone made her want to retreat, but his grip held her steady. Elfreda felt a flush of shame.

He was right. She was no longer a discarded princess of the Makaeri; she was the Queen of Machi. But seventeen years of living as an outcast, constantly measuring the moods of those around her, couldn’t be erased by a new title.

“Why… why have you come?”

The silence of his touch became unbearable, and she blurted out the first thought she had. She didn’t even realize she was repeating the Marchioness’s earlier question.

A ghost of a smirk touched Ejnar’s lips.

“Is it truly so bizarre for a man to seek out his bride on their first night?”

“No, it’s just…” Elfreda hesitated, then found a flicker of honesty. “I was certain you wouldn’t.”

“And why is that?”

“Because of the hatred you feel for me.”

“Is that what you think?”

A tiny spark of hope flared in her chest. Her eyes searched his as she asked softly, “Am I… mistaken?”

“At least you aren’t blind to reality.”

The spark was snuffed out before it could catch. His freezing gaze forced her to look away.

“I find it impossible to like you.”

“…I understand.”

Elfreda forced herself to remain composed. She refused to let him see how much that hurt. Her voice wavered slightly as she spoke.

“In that case… perhaps you should go?”

He simply stared at her, unmoving.

Worried she had been too blunt, she tried to explain. “If this was for the sake of diplomacy, you’ve stayed long enough to satisfy… Ah!”

In a sudden motion, Ejnar leaned in and crushed his lips against hers. Elfreda gasped in shock, and he used the opening to deepen the kiss with a predatory intensity.

The sensation was overwhelming—hot, wet, and dominant. He explored her with a rough, desperate hunger, like a starving animal that had finally found sustenance.

“Ah… ha…”

The experience was entirely foreign to her, and she felt her senses spinning out of control.

When he finally pulled back, her face was burning. She couldn’t tell if it was from the lack of air or the sheer intensity of the moment. He looked at her bewildered, innocent expression and let out a low, mocking chuckle.

“If a mere kiss leaves you this undone, how will you handle the rest?”

“Your Majesty…”

“Do not mistake me. Sharing a bed with you is not a difficult task.”

He began to deftly unfasten the heavy jewelry pinned into her hair. As he worked, her dark locks spilled down her shoulders in soft waves, but she remained motionless, paralyzed by the contrast between his gentle hands and his freezing eyes.

The sharp pins he pulled out felt like they were grazing her skin.

“There is no reason to put on a show for the court.”

His hands dropped away, and his gaze sharpened.

“However, if this truly repulses you, speak now. I have no desire to force myself upon my wife.”

He waited for her answer, his eyes demanding a choice. The silence stretched between them. Ejnar seemed to take her quietness as a rejection.

Just as he turned to walk away, as he had promised…

“Your Majesty!”

She lunged forward, her hand catching the fabric of his sleeve. She didn’t dare touch his skin, but she held onto the silk with everything she had. Ejnar looked down at her hand, then up at her face. Her eyes were filled with a sudden, desperate longing.

“Please… don’t leave.”

“….”

“Stay… Ah!”

He whirled around and silenced her with another kiss. This time, there was no room for hesitation. He pressed into her with such force that she was forced to retreat, her heart hammering against her ribs.

Her heels caught on the edge of the mattress, and she stumbled backward.

As she fell, his arm swept around her waist, guiding her down onto the silk sheets. Ejnar loomed over her, his mouth finding the sensitive curve of her throat.

Elfreda shook as the heat of his breath hit her skin, her fingers tangling in his golden hair without her even realizing it. But then—

“…!”

Every movement ceased. He slowly pulled back, lifting his head to stare down at her.

The heat evaporated instantly, replaced by a cold that seeped into her bones. This wasn’t the look of a lover. It wasn’t even the look of a man lost in a moment of passion.

Her heart felt like it was falling through the floor. In the silence, the words she had been told four months ago returned to haunt her.

Elfreda, you are to go to Machi. You will be their Queen.

In that moment, the truth of her situation became crystal clear.

This wasn’t a marriage; it was a life sentence. She was to be bound to a man who despised her, a permanent reminder of her crimes and her place, until the day she died.