Chapter 3
The scent of the forest wafted in through the open window. Even while unconscious, his nose had functioned properly, making the fragrance of his territory—though he hadn't stayed long—quite familiar. Three years asleep, huh. That meant it had been seven years since Leopold became emperor and granted him the duchy. Daniel leaned his right shoulder against the bedpost and gazed at the darkening scenery outside the window. Emperor Leopold Bolshtak II of Svergen. He had given the dukedom of Rihardt and this land, Utrecht, to his half-brother Daniel, who had brought him the throne. A barren land mostly surrounded by mountains, with scarcely any arable fields and few residents to tend to. Even that had overridden the objections of Empress Dowager Margret, who deemed it excessive, so it was a significant decision on Leopold's part. If he knew Daniel neither cherished nor appreciated this land or the name Rihardt, he might feel quite slighted. Whatever. Who asked for such a bothersome, troublesome burden?
“Um……”
A hesitant voice came from quite close by. Turning his head, Daniel quietly regarded the woman who had approached the bedside unnoticed. The white woman he had mistaken for an angel. In the northern forest he had visited at fourteen, following his maternal grandfather Massimo's mercenary corps, he had thought he saw an angel there too. A flood of memories poured in all at once with the fresh breeze crossing over the windowsill—memories that hadn't surfaced in a very long time, without permission.
“You, Daniel Johannes Rihardt, take Frida Cloud Harkbon as your wife……”
The marriage vows recited by the gaunt, wrinkled priest.
“He…… Stia. Waaah. Hestia sister……”
The sobbing voice of a little girl with a lisping tongue, her pronunciation imperfect.
“Frida, where are you? Frida!”
Daniel brushed back the hair tickling his cheek and twisted his lips bitterly. It was spring, they said, yet why was the breeze so damnably warm? His eyes slowly drooped shut.
“Um…… Your Grace.”
He opened them again at the sound calling him. Sparkling purple eyes stared at Daniel. Did this woman even know how she had ended up as the nominal Duchess Rihardt? Daniel silently met her gaze, pure and clear in a way utterly unlike the lustful looks noblewomen of Shendal Castle often gave him. As he merely looked without saying much, she too hesitated to continue. In the end, Daniel spoke first.
“Speak.”
Only then did Frida respond eagerly, as if she had been waiting.
“The doctor said you could have something soft like soup, so shall I have them bring some if you're hungry?”
“……”
As Daniel closed his mouth again, Frida blinked her eyes and fidgeted with her skirt. Was it too soon to suggest food to someone who had just awakened after three years? Anxiously wringing her hands, she suddenly noticed the curtains billowing strongly and hurried to the window. She had been so preoccupied she hadn't even realized the sun was setting.
“Sorry. I forgot to close the window. The night air is cold—wasn't it chilly?”
After firmly shutting the window, Frida returned and unhesitatingly reached out, pulling the blanket up to Daniel's chest.
“The doctor said to keep your body warm for the time being, so I'll have them light the fireplace today. Oh? You've sweated a lot. Wait just a moment. I'll wipe you down quickly and help you change into fresh clothes.”
“You, personally?”
“Yes. Of course, I've always……”
Frida, tidying the flower-patterned quilt, met Daniel's gaze. Her white eyebrows fluttered incessantly like a hummingbird's wings toward the man staring at her.
“Ah……. I mean, it's something I've always done.”
Embarrassed, Frida quickly withdrew her arm clutching the quilt and took a step back. A single drop of rose tint spread across her face, pure and white as the first snow on Altas's plains. Daniel, gazing at her slender white neck devoid of even a common jeweled necklace, languidly lowered his eyes.
“I want to rest like this today, so don't worry about it. I'll eat starting tomorrow.”
“Ah, then I'll have them light the fireplace right away.”
“And you? Are you alright?”
“Pardon?”
Frida, about to call a servant, turned back in confusion. Her fragile yet resolute purple eyes and his solemn, steadfast reddish-brown eyes held each other for a time, lingering in one another's gaze. The man's voice, calm yet soothing like a spring breeze, reached Frida.
“I'm asking if you're unwell, seeing as there's not a drop of color in your face.”
Frida flinched, shoulders trembling as she looked down at her skin and hair, whiter than mere 'white' could describe. She suddenly realized the duke was seeing her face for the first time today. At the wedding, she had stood beside him veiled. And even that had been brief, as he left the hall immediately. How did her distinctly different appearance strike this man? Stepping farther from the bed, Frida glanced at her reflection in the glass window. Her face, bloodless as the duke said, white eyelashes. Her hands seemed whiter than usual today, and she averted her eyes. This time, her extraordinary silver hair, falling limply below her shoulders, caught her gaze. The Harkbon family had many women with strikingly white skin and hair. In the early days of the empire, this unique appearance had earned them reverence for producing a saintess. People assumed these women of special countenance possessed holy power and exalted them as a family blessed by the gods. But now, three hundred years later, the 'blessing' on the Harkbon family had turned to 'curse' on everyone's lips. For women born with this unusual appearance often failed to reach adulthood. Like Frida's two older sisters. The third daughter of Count Harkbon's house, 'Frida Cloud Harkbon.' She too had been born with snow-white skin from head to toe. The only difference was her purple eyes, unlike her sisters' vivid blood-red ones. Now, no house would take a Harkbon daughter. Many shunned them as ill-omened. Even among the maids at the Harkbon estate, countless avoided Frida's side. So it was only natural if the duke felt repulsed now. She should have been more cautious from the start, but she had let her guard down. Living among the people of the duchy who had embraced her like family without hesitation upon seeing her, she had unwittingly……. Frida awkwardly lifted the corners of her mouth to hide her inner turmoil.
“No. I'm fine. Thank you for your concern, Your Grace.”
The purple eyes beneath her white eyebrows quivered. Daniel's gaze, fixed steadfastly on Frida's form, finally turned away after a long moment. Fatigue crashed over him suddenly, his voice sinking low.
“In the future, have the servants tend to me. There's no need for you to do it yourself, Madam.”
Frida bit her lip hard. In a way, it was inevitable. Anyone, not just him, would feel wary upon seeing someone so unlike ordinary people.
“Yes, I understand. I've been rude to you, Your Grace. If it displeased you…… I'm sorry.”
At her words, Daniel paused in brushing back his bothersome hair with hands that had finally gained some strength.
“Sorry for what?”
“Pardon?”
“I don't recall saying I was displeased. Did I?”
“No, not that, but……”
Daniel grew frustrated with the situation, where things kept going slightly awry. He couldn't understand why the woman, whose eyes had sparkled like jewels with curiosity, was suddenly bowing her head in a near-dying voice. It was also uncomfortable conversing while sitting in bed, something he had never done before. Pushing aside the quilt, Daniel swung his feet to the floor. Fortunately, his lower body hadn't completely stiffened; strength entered it. After briefly planting his feet on the floor to acclimate, he soon straightened his waist with effort. He had to grip the bedpost for support, but he stood up easily in one go.
“Y-You shouldn't strain yourself so suddenly……”
Frida, startled by Daniel's abrupt action and rushing over, lifted her head to meet the eyes of the man who had instantly towered over her. Her clear, mysterious pale purple eyes widened gradually. Staring down at the scene in a daze, Daniel slowly spoke.
“I left without properly finishing the wedding ceremony and then turned up unconscious. You've cared for such a me for three years. If anyone's been rude or displeasing, it's me far more so.”
“N-No, Your Grace just slept quietly.”
As Frida waved both hands in denial, her hastily tied snow-white hair cascaded over her shoulders like dancing wings.
“You haven't caused any displeasure at all. If anything, I've been the clumsy one, making mistakes every time. Sometimes I'd even nick your chin while shaving…… I'm sorry.”
Frida's head, which had lifted briefly, drooped back down. In truth, it wasn't just sometimes but often. No wonder Dominic, who had taught her how to shave, had clicked his tongue, saying the duke might die from excessive bleeding. Mortified enough to crawl into a mouse hole, Frida's voice grew smaller and faster.
“What I meant was, I'm sorry if touching your body without permission displeased you.”
“It's startling, but not displeasing. So there's no reason for you to apologize, Madam.”
The scent of earth and grass emanated from the woman who had drawn near. A smell impossible from ordinary noblewomen. He wondered just what this frail woman had been doing while he slept.
“I was just worried that life here might have been hard on you. Your complexion is so pale.”
Complexion…… pale? That's just how I was born. Noticing something odd in the duke's reaction, deep wrinkles formed between Frida's brows.
“Um…… Your Grace. Surely…….”
No, it couldn't be. Everyone in the empire knew the issues with Harkbon countess daughters.
“You know I have a serious condition, right?”
“……”
Confirming ignorance on the expressionless duke's face, Frida took another step back. What? He really didn't know? Nothing about the Harkbon women? Unlike the calm Daniel, Frida paced anxiously before him. The hand pressed to her forehead trembled with her voice.
“If you didn't know, then this is a fraudulent marriage.”
Something unimaginable even in dreams. Frida struggled to calm her pounding heart and cried out urgently.
“If you married without knowing my situation, this is a tremendous problem!”
Unlike her flustered panic, Duke Rihardt showed not the slightest disturbance, like an emotionless statue. He seemed an entirely different man from the one who had spat vicious curses before the Molly father and son. Frustrated, Frida's words tumbled out rapidly.
“Women born like me in the Harkbon family don't live past twenty. So I don't know when or how I might go, and also……”
“Like your sister Hestia?”
Forgetting she was a daughter of a venerable noble house raised with strict education, Frida gaped open-mouthed.
“Y-You know my sister?”
“No.”
Feeling it hard to stand, Daniel replied indifferently and sat back on the bed.
“I know your name is 'Frida,' not Hestia.”
Then, looking at Frida who couldn't tear her eyes from him, he added impassively.
“And that it is indeed a fraudulent marriage.”
