Chapter 46
Maybe it was because the shock had been too great—Amelia spent the entire week after that night bedridden with illness.
A sudden fever had left her so delirious that she couldn’t even keep her eyes open, confined to her bed the whole time.
“Priestess…!”
During those days, the one who stayed by her side was Louis.
It probably wasn’t out of any special kindness, but each time she briefly regained consciousness and saw his face, Amelia couldn’t help but feel a faint sense of relief.
“Are you all right?”
Even when she finally opened her eyes, Louis was there beside her.
Perhaps it was largely because he was worried she might say nonsense while unconscious, but in her fragile state, Amelia found herself grateful for that as well.
“Why did you suddenly fall so ill? I was so shocked when I heard you couldn’t even open your eyes.”
Louis touched her forehead as he rattled off his words in rapid succession.
Most likely, his concern was that the priestess couldn’t just vanish without warning—it would be troublesome if she did.
But Amelia could still tell that at least some of that worry was genuine.
“…Thank you.”
Louis paused at her words of gratitude.
“……”
His gaze, fixed on her, held a subtle confusion.
He had received thanks, so the proper response should have been something like, “Think nothing of it,” yet he seemed uncertain whether her gratitude was sincere.
“There’s no other meaning behind it,” Amelia said.
Louis blinked slowly, his expression blank for a moment. Then, with a slightly prim air, he merely lifted his brows and helped her sit up.
“You’ve hardly eaten a thing all week. You should eat something.”
“…What about Ian?”
Louis frowned.
For someone who had been so sick she might’ve died, it was strange—maybe even unsettling—that the first thing she did upon waking was ask about her child.
“He’s fine. For now, you should wash up and at least have some soup.”
His curt tone seemed to say she should worry about her own frail body first.
Amelia quietly agreed to his suggestion.
She soaked in hot water, letting her body relax, then, still warm and drowsy, ate a thin, watery soup.
“Did anyone come to see me?”
But after days on an empty stomach, even that small amount of food was a strain.
Passing the half-finished bowl to a maid, Amelia turned to Louis with the question.
“Visitors?”
That was her last lingering hope. But the look and tone of Louis’s reply offered no sign of it.
“No… that was a pointless question.”
Ivan hadn’t come.
And he wouldn’t come in the future either—Amelia knew that for certain now.
“…What about the emperor?”
“The emperor?”
“You said before he might send a marriage proposal.”
At her explanation, Louis let out a short sound of realization.
It seemed he hadn’t caught her meaning at first.
“Well, there’s no word yet of him sending one. I doubt the position of empress will be decided so easily.”
If a decision were made, things would move quickly, but for now, there was no sign of that happening.
Amelia quietly nodded.
“Get some rest. I’ll head back and rest too.”
“You’ve worked hard.”
Louis didn’t deny it—he simply nodded, opened the bedroom door, and left.
Amelia sat staring blankly at the red glow of the setting sun spilling into the room.
“……”
She could clearly remember her last argument with Ivan, yet it didn’t feel real.
Perhaps because she had cried herself into unconsciousness that night, no more tears came.
So this is how it ends, then.
That was all she could vaguely think.
Amelia rubbed her tired face with one hand.
Her head was in chaos, and her body—only just freed from unconsciousness—was no better.
He’s fine, Louis had said.
She ought to go see Ian.
She’d been sick in bed for a week, so perhaps the boy had been fussy and troubled those around him.
And yet… it was strange. Even thinking that, her body wouldn’t move.
As if nailed to the bed, she stared at her unmoving legs.
Her sharp gaze struck them again and again, like a whip, but they wouldn’t obey.
“…Ha.”
She shut her eyes tight—not to turn away from the world, but in self-reproach.
No matter what had happened, she had chosen to be with Ivan and bear his child.
Ian existed only because of her choice.
And yet—despite that—a primal resistance welled up in her.
Aside from his eye color, Ian resembled Ivan greatly.
She was afraid of seeing Ivan’s face in her child’s features.
She wasn’t sure if she could still love Ian as she once had, when that face belonged to a man who had never loved her.
“Move, Amelia Escliffe.”
Her voice trembled as she scolded herself.
“He’s your child. You chose to have him.”
No one was blaming her, yet she felt guilty.
She couldn’t bear the thought of abandoning her child in full view of the man who had already forsaken him.
But the fierce betrayal she felt toward Ivan made her want to turn away from Ian, too—and that feeling was just as real.
Her eyes filled with tears. Amelia bit her lower lip hard.
She wished someone would chain her by the ankles and drag her to him.
“……”
A baby’s cry rang out.
Since Ian was the only infant in the palace, there was no mistaking whose cry it was.
The moment she realized that, her body moved before any feelings of aversion or sorrow could.
“Ian.”
Throwing off the blanket, Amelia swung her legs over the side of the bed.
She didn’t even bother with her indoor slippers as she hurried out of her room.
“Priestess?”
The startled attendants didn’t slow her. Amelia quickly climbed the stairs.
“Why are you crying again, little one, hm?”
She flung open the nursery door.
Mrs. Howard, who had been holding and soothing Ian, turned toward the sudden intrusion.
“Priestess?”
“I heard him crying.”
Mrs. Howard blinked in confusion.
The priestess’s chambers were on the same side of the palace, only a floor apart, but the soundproofing wasn’t so poor that a brief cry would send someone rushing down—especially not at this early evening hour.
“Oh, he was just fussing a little. Was it too loud? I’ll be more careful.”
She hurried to apologize. If she had disturbed a guest’s peace, that was her fault.
But instead of coolly accepting the apology, Amelia walked straight over, barefoot.
“Oh dear, what about your slippers…?”
Mrs. Howard glanced at her bare feet, but Amelia didn’t flinch or hide them.
She came closer and looked down at Ian, who had only just calmed after crying so hard.
“……”
In Mrs. Howard’s arms, Ian stirred and opened his eyes.
Amelia gazed down at the pale-colored eyes so like her own.
As if recognizing his mother, Ian blinked his damp lashes.
“May I hold him?”
“Of course.”
Mrs. Howard quickly handed him over.
Amelia took the boy with practiced ease, supporting him securely as he nestled against her chest.
She began pacing the room slowly, rocking him.
“I’ll tell a maid to fetch your slippers.”
With that, Mrs. Howard hurried out of the nursery—perhaps unable to bear watching her walk barefoot.
In the meantime, Ian blinked up at her, as if memorizing the face of the mother he hadn’t seen in days.
…In his eyes, the universe twinkled.
“You’re beautiful.”
A surge of emotion caught in her throat, making the praise waver.
“Ian. My baby.”
She drew him closer, pressing her forehead gently to his warm, round one.
It was as if they were sharing their body heat.
I don’t hate you.
Even now, when I see your father’s face in you, I find you so precious it hurts.
All her earlier fears were groundless.
Even when Ivan’s features showed in Ian’s face, she felt no resentment—only love and pity.
“……”
How could Ivan not love such a beautiful, lovely child?
How was that even possible?
The tears she thought had dried returned, dampening her eyes.
With trembling hands, she smoothed the cloth wrapped around Ian’s body.
“Ian.”
She called his name softly.
As if in reply, his small lips moved in an almost-smile.
The newborn’s little motions were so tender, so dear, she could hardly bear it.
“It’s all right,” she whispered, voice thick with tears.
Even drowning in sorrow, she couldn’t deny the one undeniable truth.
Or perhaps it was impossible to deny.
“I’ll do it for you—whatever it is.”
Because now, in this world, it was only the two of them.
She didn’t know if she was giving comfort or yearning for it herself.
Amelia thought, Just for today—only today—I’ll cry. I can’t go on being this weak forever.
As if sensing that thought, Ian began to cry again, though he had only just stopped.
Yet somehow, because they were together, even his crying felt like a comfort.
