Chapter 82
Well, since I was close enough to read his lips, of course Ianheart could see them too.
‘Not much left now.’
At his silent reassurance, Liana’s eyes softened to match his.
And truly, it didn’t take long before they reached the final stage of the ceremony.
“Your Highness the Princess, please take the first sip of the wine.”
As the high priest finished speaking, an attendant priest carefully presented a silver tray before Liana.
Already familiar with the order of the ritual, Liana slowly reached out and grasped the silver cup filled with wine.
She waited, cup in hand, until the veil covering her vision was lifted away.
The sudden clarity made her squint for an instant, but she quickly composed herself and took a sip.
A sweet yet slightly bitter flavor rose to her tongue.
It wasn’t particularly strong wine.
“Please pass the cup to His Majesty.”
At the priest’s next words, Liana carefully handed the cup to Ianheart, who stood before her.
At that moment, his fingers brushed against the back of her hand as he took it.
‘…That startled me.’
Barely restraining herself from flinching, Liana instinctively glanced up at him.
He was already drinking from the cup, his throat moving as the liquid went down.
His Adam’s apple shifted, and his brow faintly furrowed, as if the sweetness didn’t suit him.
Of course. Ianheart preferred dry, strong liquor—not this mild, sweet wine.
‘Come to think of it, his likes and dislikes are quite clear.’
Like her, he preferred land meat to seafood.
He disliked sour things, disliked sweets.
And he certainly disliked women he had no interest in throwing themselves at him.
But the things he did like…
‘What does he like again?’
His sword? …That horse, Blacky?
That was all she could think of.
Now that she thought about it, she realized she only knew what he hated, not what he liked.
Because they had never really talked about those kinds of things.
‘Maybe after this, I’ll invite him for a drink and ask.’
They were going to live as husband and wife from now on—it would be good to at least know what he liked.
…And, if she was honest, she was a little curious herself.
Ianheart, having left half the cup unfinished, placed it with a clink onto the silver tray a priest held nearby, then slowly turned his gaze back to her.
‘…’
Their eyes met.
“This is the final step. Before God, the two of you must now exchange your vows.”
Thump.
Liana’s heart suddenly beat a fraction too soon.
“Everyone but His Majesty the Emperor and Her Highness the Princess, turn your gaze away.”
The moment the words ended, everyone turned their backs on the pair.
Thump-thump.
Her heart beat faster still.
Tap.
Even the last apprentice priest, who had been a little slow, finally turned around.
“…”
In the silence, Ianheart stepped closer.
He raised his hand, palm up, before her.
Liana slowly laid her hand upon his.
Gone was the smile from earlier—his face was grave as he leaned forward, pressing his lips gently to the back of her hand.
Thump-thump.
It was as if a quarter of her heart had been torn out and set against her skin. Surely arteries didn’t beat this loudly.
Swish.
Straightening, Ianheart carefully lifted her veil and set it aside on the silver tray.
Her vision cleared completely.
“…”
“…”
Their eyes met in the unclouded light.
The very last step remained.
Ianheart lowered his head. Liana closed her eyes.
The sensation that touched her forehead was sweet.
Even though it was their wedding day, nothing felt particularly different afterward.
The preparation had taken time, but the ceremony itself wasn’t very long. Afterward, they shared a meal, and then parted for their own duties.
The rest of the day was much like any other.
Ianheart returned to his mountain of work. Liana attended lessons with Lady Giselle.
It wasn’t until bedtime that they both noticed something strange.
It had been over an hour since she lay down, yet sleep still eluded Liana.
She had tried counting numbers, tried deep breathing—nothing worked.
Her body cried out with fatigue, but her mind was far too awake.
“…This is driving me crazy. Why do I keep thinking of it?”
Finally, she opened her eyes with a frustrated mutter.
It wasn’t anything else, but one particular memory drifting endlessly through her head that kept her from sleeping.
The warmth, the touch, the scent it left behind… Madness.
“…Am I a pervert?”
Startled by the vividness of the memory, she bolted upright.
Maybe coming to this new place had weakened her mind and body, making her think such insane thoughts.
She began doubting her own sanity.
If she were normal, there was no reason why she should keep recalling the ceremony instead of falling asleep.
To be precise, not even the whole ceremony—just a single step. A short step that had lasted less than three minutes.
The final step. One she had already heard about and read in advance.
But that single step now held her mind hostage.
The image of Ianheart drinking the rest of her wine, the feel of his lips on her hand, the cool scent mixed with the faint sweetness of the wine as he pressed his lips to her forehead…
Her hand unconsciously drifted to her forehead before she jerked it back, alarmed.
“This is insane, insane… Liana Robellin, you’ve finally gone mad…”
There was no way she was in her right mind.
It was nothing more than a ritual. So why couldn’t she sleep because of it?
Why?!
“Just because he touched my hand and my forehead with his lips…”
As if to mock her further, her heart suddenly picked up pace.
It pounded like a grand banquet was being held in her chest in the middle of the night.
Had she truly lost her mind? Was that the reason?
It was only near dawn, when her racing thoughts and heart finally grew weary, that she managed to calm down again.
At the same hour, in the Ruby Palace—
There was another who could not sleep.
The palace’s master, Ianheart Lu Belnerum.
“…Have I finally gone mad?”
He had been called mad countless times—by both enemies and allies—and never cared. But now he wondered if he truly was losing his sanity.
This wasn’t even the first time he had thought so.
It went back to a few days before they left Roun.
On the way to the palace, he had overheard—unintentionally—the confession of some bear-like man.
That man had said he liked Liana. Ianheart didn’t even remember his name anymore. But the sour feeling that crept up after hearing it…
And the day he saw Liana cherishing the gloves that man had given her—he had been so irrationally upset he wondered if he’d gone mad then too.
That had been the first time in his life he ever doubted his own sanity.
But tonight, the reason was different.
“…I’ve lost it.”
As soon as he tried to regain his calm, the strange feeling swept over him again.
The memory from just hours ago consumed him.
That odd tingling heat spreading through his body.
It all stemmed from one scene in his mind.
The calloused palm of a swordman, the not-so-soft back of her hand, the delicate smoothness of her forehead, and her faintly flushed face, as if the solemn ritual embarrassed her.
As though he were some boy in his first crush…
“…First crush?”
Ianheart scowled deeply at the ridiculous thought.
How absurd.
He was twenty-six years old—what business did he have with something like a “first crush”?
He and Liana were not in that kind of relationship. They had not shared any spark of mutual attraction, nor did they have any reason to.
They were bound by necessity, a contract. There was no space for romance in that.
Of course, Liana was a fine person—naturally, he had a measure of human fondness for her…
But what did that have to do with love?
Why would such a word suddenly appear in his mind?
“…Hah.”
Restless from this emotion he couldn’t define, Ianheart tossed and turned.
In the end, unable to sleep, he left the palace before dawn.
If Bernian had seen him, he would have sighed and shaken his head.
If Kion had seen him, he would have laughed and teased him for acting so unlike himself.
