Beneath the Surviving Princess's Joyful Facade - Chapter 90

As Eirik, carrying his wife, made his way out with his mother, Duke Salachez approached them with a bow.

“Madam Cladnier, Margrave, leaving already?”

Eirik glanced up and down at Salachez’s attire, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “…It seems you’ll need my approval before venturing out next time. That outfit—”

The Duke grinned widely, spreading his arms. “Ah, just trying to draw some attention. For my only friend.”

It was clear the Duke had anticipated the situation the Cladnier family would face at this banquet. Eirik managed a bitter smile, feeling a tinge of gratitude.

The Duke turned to Madam Cladnier, offering a cheerful greeting, but she was in no mood for conversation.

“We’ll speak later. I’m rather preoccupied at the moment,” she said.

“I understand. Go on, then.”

Eirik, suddenly remembering his father was still at the banquet, turned back to the Duke. “Your Grace, my father tends to fall asleep after drinking too much. It’s about that time now. Could you see to it that he gets home safely? I would appreciate it.”

“With this outfit, I’m sure his drunkenness will dissipate quickly,” the Duke replied with a chuckle.

Satisfied with the Duke’s response, Eirik, his mother, and Miesa boarded the carriage.

The silence in the carriage was palpable. Madam Cladnier stared out the window, though there was nothing to see in the dark streets.

Miesa, who had been resting in Eirik’s arms, stirred and sat up. Madam Cladnier, sensing the movement, turned to look at her. Now seated beside Eirik, Miesa spoke softly.

“…I’m sorry.”

Miesa’s voice, heard clearly for the first time, was clearer and more mature than she had expected from the usual high-pitched tone she used.

“I’m really… sorry.”

Madam Cladnier closed her eyes and leaned back against the seat. She understood. Miesa had known all along and could communicate just fine.

“I… I…”

“Enough,” Madam Cladnier said, eyes still closed.

There were many questions she wanted to ask Miesa. Why had she hidden the truth all this time? Why had she not trusted her enough to reveal her true self? Why hadn’t she spoken up earlier at the banquet? And…

But she already knew the answers. So there was only one thing left to say.

“In the end, one can only protect oneself. There’s no need to apologize for what you did to survive.”

There was no response. Only the sight of her son gently holding his wife’s shoulder.

She thought it might have been better if her son had married someone less complicated. Yet, given the precarious situation of their family, she couldn’t blame Miesa.

Anyone in their position would have faced the same humiliation once they fell out of favor with the king. Although she hadn’t anticipated the extent of the indignity they endured tonight.

***

The new Margrave’s oddly affectionate attitude towards his peculiar wife became the talk of the town.

Rumors spread among the servants, reinforcing their suspicions. Upon hearing these stories, they avoided the third floor altogether.

The mansion was enveloped in a somber atmosphere. Yet, Eirik was confronted with another pressing issue.

“Repeat that,” Eirik ordered, his voice tight with frustration.

“Well, it happened after you left for the banquet yesterday…,” Vallek began cautiously.

The recently discovered royal maid’s illegitimate son, Fabrian, had attempted to hang himself. Fortunately, Vallek, who was on guard, sensed something amiss and intervened just in time.

“Bring him in,” Eirik commanded.

The knights brought Fabrian, bound with ropes, into the study. As soon as the gag was removed, he began to cry.

“If I’m destined to die, please kill me here quickly,” Fabrian pleaded, tears streaming down his face.

Watching him sob like a child, Eirik sighed. “No one is asking you to lead the charge.”

“If I’m caught for treason, I’ll be quartered alive. Please, just let me die quickly,” Fabrian begged, his voice trembling.

Hearing the Duke of Hagail’s stories, Eirik knew being quartered alive was a merciful death compared to other possibilities. Forcing someone this terrified into their cause was unthinkable. He sighed again.

“You’ll be excluded,” Eirik said firmly. “But now that you know our plans, I can’t just send you home. I’ll guarantee your safety for at least three years.”

“That’s fine. Send me to a monastery or somewhere similar. I’ll keep quiet and out of sight,” Fabrian promised, bowing repeatedly in gratitude.

With everything back in place, Eirik shook his head, feeling a weight of disquiet.

Miesa was anxious. Whenever she closed her eyes, she was haunted by the looks people gave Eirik, as if he were something filthy, and by Madam Cladnier’s cold voice inside the carriage.

No matter how hard she tried to bury those unsettling thoughts, it was futile. Consequently, Miesa found herself clinging desperately to Eirik whenever he returned late at night.

“Were you waiting up for me?” Eirik asked, his face always showing signs of fatigue. Despite being with her, his thoughts seemed elsewhere, and he often sighed absentmindedly.

Miesa grew increasingly restless. She needed reassurance that he wasn’t growing weary of her. So, she continually sought his embrace, yet Eirik only offered gentle comfort.

“It’s late. You should be asleep,” he said soothingly.

But Miesa craved more than his calming touch. She longed for the way he once looked at her with desperate eyes, holding her as if she might break. She yearned for him to desire her fiercely.

Is that why people say intimacy is a measure of affection?

As the thought crossed her mind, Miesa tentatively touched his nightshirt. Lying on the bed, Eirik opened his eyes at the feel of her hand on his chest.

“Dear?”

“…Please kiss me.”

Without a word, he bent down and kissed her, but it was light and devoid of passion.

Miesa shook her head. “Not like that.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck and clumsily parted her lips. Realizing what she wanted, Eirik sighed heavily.

“Your body is still not fully healed,” he reminded her gently.

“I’m fine. There are ways to prevent it without taking medicine. If you withdraw before… you know, it works,” she explained, referencing the natural method of contraception Gella had mentioned.

Eirik frowned deeply at her words. “That method has resulted in many unwanted children. Is Gella even thinking clearly?”

Miesa hadn’t mentioned it was her own idea, and Gella had warned her of the risks. Unaware of Eirik’s extensive knowledge of such matters, she hurried to justify herself.

“But still…”

“And besides,” he continued.

In his position, avoiding the label of deviant was challenging enough without the current accusations. How could he possibly find desire under such scrutiny?

“Why?” she asked, confusion in her voice.

“…I’ve been very tired lately,” Eirik said, using another excuse.

Miesa wouldn’t understand the crude implications of his words. No one had dared speak of it openly that day. There was no need to burden her further with the accusations against him.

To calm her, he gently patted her shoulder and asked, “So, what makes you want me so urgently tonight?”

“Um, well…”

She knew confessing that she wanted to feel his love would only anger him. Miesa had learned to predict his reactions.

“I want to.”

Eirik’s hand froze at her unexpected boldness. Realizing her direct approach was working, Miesa pressed on shamelessly.

“You did something with your mouth last time. I want you to do that again.”

“Wait. Hold on a moment. This is a bit confusing,” he stammered, taken aback by her forwardness.

Eirik rubbed his face with a dry hand. Then it dawned on him: Miesa’s an adult woman, and it’s natural for her to have such desires.

“Well then…” he murmured, hesitating as he considered her request.

“What exactly do you want me to do?” he asked, trying to buy himself some time to think.

“With your mouth and hands…” Miesa trailed off, unsure of how to articulate her desires. She had only ever felt the sensations without fully understanding what was happening between her legs.

“Just do everything you did before. It was all good,” she said finally.

“……”

“Also, I want you to suck on me until there are red marks all over my body, and touch me between my legs until I’m completely wet.”

Eirik tried to steady his thoughts. Her words were so innocently explicit that they made his mind reel.

“Alright,” he said, starting to unbutton his nightshirt. As he noticed himself already becoming aroused, he felt a mix of emotions.

Miesa, eager and impatient, had already started untying the ribbon of her nightgown, afraid he might change his mind.