Chapter 6
A voice that should not have been heard from the room echoed inside.
Startled, Linthia lifted her head, only to find Harvich leaning casually against the doorway. Their gazes met in midair, his crimson eyes locking onto hers.
Though unsettled by his unexpected visit, Linthia soon opened her mouth.
“…Yes, but right now, I want to be alone.”
She didn’t want to talk to Harvich in this state.
Then again, had they ever truly had a proper conversation?
Harvich only appeared when the imperial physician visited. Other than that, he never sought her out.
Even when financial issues arose. Even when he was dispatched to another territory or had to be away for long periods—she still couldn’t meet him.
And yet…
This unwanted pregnancy had created a point of contact between them.
It no longer brought joy, nor did it sadden her.
Because Linthia knew better than anyone that her pregnancy was not a happy event for Harvich.
“What did you talk about with him?”
“…It wasn’t much of a conversation.”
To call it a conversation would be generous—it had been Oberok’s one-sided decree.
Honestly, Linthia found Harvich’s sudden curiosity about her exchanges with Oberok very transparent.
Except for the day of her diagnosis, Oberok always exchanged only a few brief words with her. Harvich had never once asked about it.
But now, he was doubting her.
His crimson eyes scanned her up and down, as if measuring her intent, before he slowly spoke.
“Did you not promise to tell me only the truth?”
At his words, Linthia’s stomach churned.
“…I won’t lie. I’ll only answer truthfully. I won’t bring you trouble. I’m sorry.”
Those were the very words she had vowed the day she became his wife on paper. That she would tell him only the truth, never bring him harm, live as though she were dead…
She had desperately made that promise because she didn’t want to become a burden to the man she loved. But no reply had come from him then, and she had never thought he would actually care about those words.
After all, not long ago, he hadn’t believed her at all.
Linthia understood why Harvich doubted her.
“…I didn’t lie. You can’t call a one-sided decree a conversation.”
But understanding didn’t ease the pain—it only made her heart ache.
“What did the physician say?”
At his demand, Linthia’s eyes trembled. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being interrogated like a criminal.
“…Must you know?”
She had grown used to Oberok’s scorn and mockery, but telling Harvich about it stirred a different kind of shame.
There had been a time when she had wished Harvich would ask her about Oberok. But not like this.
“Yes. This time, I must.”
His words carried the air of someone claiming mercy—as though his silence all this while had been deliberate restraint. Linthia’s fingers clenched tightly around the blanket.
She didn’t want to speak.
But Harvich showed no intention of leaving until she did. Arms crossed, he only looked down at her indifferently.
Taking a deep breath, Linthia parted her lips slowly.
“…He said His Majesty already knows about the Cassius territory’s independence… and told me not to try any tricks. To carry the child, even if it costs me my life.”
Even after her words ended, Harvich remained silent for a long time. His crimson gaze roved across her face, still inscrutable. The air around them grew so cold it burned.
“Was it you who told them?”
“…What?”
“The plans of the North.”
Linthia’s eyes shook violently.
“…Are you seriously asking me that?”
When she had come to the duchy, Linthia had even dismissed the maid who had loyally cared for her in the palace, fearing suspicion.
She excused herself from every social gathering with the common pretense of illness, avoiding anything that might bring harm to him.
Even the summons of Emperor Julius himself—she had refused them all.
Because it was the imperial palace that had made Cassius suffer.
And Harvich had not ignored her efforts.
Though they weren’t a normal couple, they ate together sometimes, spoke, and occasionally took walks. That had been enough for her to nurture a small hope.
Perhaps their start had been terrible, but maybe they could maintain something good.
But that hope ended the moment relations between the palace and the North grew irreparably strained.
For a year, while rebellion brewed, Linthia had become invisible inside the ducal estate.
She deliberately suppressed her presence, and without the power to communicate outside, the household freely spoke of independence in her hearing.
Because she was a royal.
Though she rarely saw Harvich, it had been fine. He still entrusted her with some domestic affairs, still showed her a sliver of trust.
And yet…
She had never thought he would doubt her so deeply—just because she carried a child.
His child.
Harvich’s and hers.
“…Do you truly believe I colluded with the palace?”
Her trembling voice asked again.
“I only said I cannot rule it out. A child appearing suddenly—it raises questions.”
Her chest surged with emotion, threatening tears.
“You demand only truth from me, but you don’t believe a single word I say.”
The night Harvich erased from his memory was one Linthia could never forget.
When rebellion succeeded, she, as a royal, could no longer remain in the duchy. That night had been her one attempt to create a memory to hold onto forever.
If she had known that night would lead to this…
She would never have indulged in it.
“I never once wrote to the palace. Oberok is nothing more than a spy sent to watch me. They just want me to do nothing… to prove I am useless to them.”
Her words tumbled out in disarray, leaving her hollow.
Even after hearing her explanation, Harvich said nothing. Linthia couldn’t bear to meet his gaze and kept her head bowed.
“That is your answer?”
“…Yes.”
At his cold words, she lifted her head—only to find his eyes asking whether she had anything more to add.
From the moment he doubted the child’s paternity, their conversation could never meet.
“Yes, I’ve said everything. Leave now. I have nothing more to say.”
Pulling the canopy closed, Linthia lay back down.
She knew she had no right to demand anything. She knew she should be grateful just to be allowed to breathe. And yet, her chest hurt unbearably.
The creak of the door closing reached her ears, and finally, Linthia wept in silence.
***
—Knock knock.
The sound of knocking woke Linthia from her sleep.
“I will be coming in.”
Even before she gave permission, the servants entered.
Having lived nearly alone for the past year, their
sudden presence startled her. Still half-dazed from sleep, she sat up sluggishly, pulling aside the canopy.
“They say the imperial family has sent a gift for you, my lady.”
