Chapter 21
“The King is approaching the Solar Palace.”
Deep into the night, Elfreda sat at her writing table, her features clouded with a heavy gloom. This sudden announcement caught her completely off guard. Not once had he sought her out since that day in the throne room when Serina had offered her apologies.
The chaos surrounding the recent tea party had pushed thoughts of him to the back of her mind. She scrambled to straighten her skirts, making herself presentable for Ejnar’s arrival.
The sound of heavy, unfamiliar boots echoed in the hallway. Elfreda fought to mask her inner turmoil with a neutral mask.
She wondered if word of the disastrous social gathering had reached his ears. Perhaps he was coming to reprimand her for being so inept. A wave of dread washed over her, though it wasn’t the prospect of a lecture that stung the most. It was the idea that he might despise her for being a source of such trivial annoyance.
Elfreda vowed to keep her composure throughout the encounter.
“I offer my respects to the radiance of Machi.”
She performed a stiff bow. When she finally looked up, she found Ejnar observing her with an unreadable stare. To break the stifling quiet, she forced a strained smile.
“I hope you have been well?”
“Is that a subtle rebuke for my long absence?”
“Certainly not.”
She almost countered that her own duties had kept her too preoccupied to notice his absence, but she bit back the retort. Instead, she adopted a tone of soft concern.
“You appear exhausted. Have you been getting enough rest?”
“You would do better to inspect your own reflection first,” he countered.
“Excuse me?”
“Have you avoided looking-glasses lately? You seem to be wasting away.”
He stepped toward her, his expression darkening with irritation.
Elfreda instinctively recoiled, her muscles locking up. He closed the distance in an instant, peering intensely at her face. She felt like a criminal under scrutiny, terrified he might see right through her.
Ejnar didn’t stop at a mere look. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her skin. The contact made her jump; she felt like a mimosa plant folding inward at a touch. His fingertips felt like brands of fire wherever they landed.
“Are you also suffering from sleeplessness?”
A strange heat coiled in her stomach. It was an unsettling, shy sensation that forced her to look away. Ejnar, however, refused to be ignored. He hooked his thumb under her jaw, tilting her head back to meet his gaze.
Elfreda’s eyes went wide with shock.
“Oh…”
“You look far worse than I do.”
He raised a skeptical brow.
“What is weighing on your mind?”
She felt as though she were being interrogated by a judge. Her lips felt heavy and numb. His piercing stare seemed to strip away her defenses, leaving her paralyzed as she searched for a plausible deception.
“Nothing at all, truly.”
“And you expect me to believe that when you look this haggard?”
“I am simply… preoccupied with the health of Marchioness Magnum,” Elfreda blurted out, desperate for a distraction. “She has been absent for three days. Her condition seems grave, and it has me quite concerned.”
“I see. That must be creating quite a burden on the palace administration.”
Even if he didn’t mean it as a jab, Elfreda felt the weight of his words like a cross-examination. Guilt gnawed at her.
She offered another brittle smile and doubled down on the lie.
“The rest of the staff are managing the workload admirably.”
“So,” Ejnar said, drawing a conclusion. “There isn’t a single problem bothering you.”
“I…”
Unable to decipher the intent behind his flat expression, she whispered with a ghost of a smile.
“I will strive for better results. Please, do not trouble yourself with the inner palace.”
“….”
The silence stretched.
In the stillness, she thought she finally detected a flicker of emotion in him.
He looked offended. Yet, the reason remained a mystery. She believed she had given the perfect, dutiful response expected of a Queen, but a sudden chill of intuition told her she had failed a test she didn’t know she was taking.
“Very well,” Ejnar said, his lips curling into a sharp, mirthless line.
“You must apply yourself further so that I am not forced to worry.”
“…”
“In that case, I should focus my own efforts elsewhere.”
“I don’t understand…?”
Before she could finish the thought, Ejnar’s large hand shot out, seizing the fabric of her silk gown.
“…”
Elfreda stared at him, her mind reeling. He remained stone-faced, yet a palpable aura of resentment radiated from him.
There was no tenderness in the movement; it was cold and functional. His grip was firm, crushing her chest—which felt sensitive and full as her cycle approached. Elfreda stood motionless, a heavy, damp heat spreading through her body as she submitted to his touch.
“Mm…”
As his hand moved with practiced ease, the strength left her legs. He traced a slow path downward, moving past her navel toward her thighs. With his other hand, he impatiently shoved the sleeves of her dress off her shoulders.
The garment pooled around her waist, and Elfreda found it difficult to remain upright. She looked toward the bed, wishing to move there, but Ejnar stood like a statue. He didn’t take a single step, using only his hands to explore her.
“Ah…”
Despite the soft sounds of distress escaping her, he didn’t budge. Finally, when the dress could no longer cling to her form and began to slide away, he reached into the opening of the silk.
Unable to endure the tension, Elfreda looked up at him.
Ejnar met her eyes with a clinical, detached stare. His face was a mask of indifference that contradicted the intimacy of his actions. It was as if he were waiting for her to break the silence—refusing to move an inch further until she spoke. Her knees felt like they might buckle, and she forced the words out.
“Please… Your Majesty…”
“Speak,” he commanded softly.
“Can we… go to the bed?”
A muscle in Ejnar’s brow jumped at the sound of her trembling voice. His lips twisted into a grimace as he muttered to himself.
“So you do have a voice.”
“What?”
“I was beginning to think my Queen…”
He moved his hand lower without a hint of hesitation.
“…was a complete idiot who lacked the will to ask for what she wanted.”
“Ah…!”
“I am relieved to see I was mistaken.”
But why won’t you tell me the rest?
He kept the question buried.
When he first discovered the obstacles Elfreda was facing, he had stayed back to watch. He saw that she was isolated, that no one was coming to her aid, and that he was her only remaining lifeline.
He had waited for her to come to him.
She never did. He thought perhaps shame held her back, so he had come here personally to give her an opening.
Even now, she refused to lean on him.
He couldn’t fathom it. She was the type of person who spoke up when pushed to the edge, yet she remained silent about her struggles.
Curiosity burned in him, but it was overshadowed by a stinging blow to his ego. It felt beneath him to offer salvation to a woman who wouldn’t even acknowledge she was drowning. Why was he wasting his energy? Why was he showing any grace at all?
Especially to a fraudulent queen who intended to steal his kingdom.
A sudden, sharp anger flared in his chest. He couldn’t tell if he was mad at her existence, her refusal to trust him, or his own ridiculous preoccupation with her well-being.
He was done containing it.
Without warning, Ejnar hauled Elfreda into his arms. She let out a sharp gasp, her hands flying out for balance. Her instinct was to grab his shoulders, but she stopped herself, curling her fingers into tight fists instead. Even as she dangled high above the floor, she refused to hold onto him.
Ejnar’s face contorted with rage.
So that was it. She wouldn’t share her burdens with her husband, and she wouldn’t even deign to touch him.
