Chapter 175
It was true. The Grand Duchess stood just beneath the Crown Princess in rank, yet she remained free from the Imperial family’s control.
And once married, no woman’s family could ever claim rights over her again—unless she herself sought their protection.
Nerys’s heart pounded. Her chest felt tight for many reasons.
How could she possibly dare to stand at his side? She had already convinced herself long ago that she must not. And hadn’t he accepted that as well?
Seeing her face, Cledwyn gave a bitter smile. From his coat, he drew a small box wrapped in black velvet.
“Ellen told me not to come back to White Swan Castle unless I put this ring on your finger.” (T/N : GAD DANGGGG! I’m pretty sure you’ll be over the moon with this Miyu Nao lol.)
The lid opened slowly. A shaft of light slipped through the curtain, striking the jewel within. Sunlight refracted through the stone, scattering hundreds of tiny sparks across the carriage.
A cushion-cut diamond, larger than her thumbnail, ringed with small purple stones, glittered on a platinum band.
“What is this? An heirloom?”
“My mother’s wedding ring. I had the heavy setting removed and reset to suit you.”
The burden on her chest grew heavier. Nerys meant to refuse before the air grew stifling—but Cledwyn spoke faster.
“While I’ve been in the capital, the Imperial family’s been pressing a marriage with Izet. A perfect excuse to chain me down.”
Izet. Rage flared red across Nerys’s mind.
In her past life, she had not hated her little sister-in-law especially. But the thought of Cledwyn marrying Izet was intolerable. The crown would meddle, binding him under the pretense of making him imperial kin.
Yet to refuse such a proposal outright, he needed an excuse—such as being already betrothed. And the prospective bride…
‘Who is there?’
Natasha, Valentin, Megara, Aidalia—none worth considering. No one could provide a shield strong enough against Izet.
Nerys exhaled. She admitted it: no one came to mind.
Not because she was flustered, but because she simply knew no woman worthy of Cledwyn.
She sighed again. Accepting marriage to a man she had once firmly rejected demanded more strength than she had left.
‘No—that isn’t all.’
She knew it. Deep inside, she was glad. Perhaps even grateful that such an excuse had appeared.
But she could not allow herself too much greed. She had to drive in one final nail, as she had on that winter night.
“…All right. But there are conditions.”
“What conditions?”
Joy lit his face. His gray eyes—like diamonds themselves—curved as they gleamed.
“Say anything. Whatever you want.”
“Thank you for offering me freedom through marriage. I won’t ask for more than that. But after we marry, you must still seek a more suitable bride.” (T/N : WHYYYYY!? Why you do this to my boy Cledwyn!!)
Pain twisted his expression.
The sight nearly brought tears to her eyes. But she straightened her shoulders and schooled her face, as she always had whenever forced to do what she did not want.
Cledwyn gazed at her for a long time. Long enough that her heart began to ache from the pressure.
At last, he spoke.
“…If that is what you want, then I promise. Should I find ‘a woman more suited to be Grand Duchess than you,’ I will take her.”
Strange. She had gotten exactly what she demanded—yet her chest burned with unbearable sorrow.
Still, it had to be this way. So Nerys hid her tears and smiled gracefully.
“Very well. Thank you.”
From outside came the pounding of hooves—one horse only, racing madly.
She thought she knew who it was. Drawing the curtain slightly, she peeked.
Shining silver hair, eyes blue as the sky.
Nellusion.
He reined in after passing, staring blankly at the carriage. His eyes locked with hers through the window.
“Nerys!”
His face twisted with fury. He turned his horse to charge toward them—but Aidan blocked his path.
“Where are you going, Lord Elandria?”
“Move!”
Gone was his usual smooth, clever tone. Nellusion tried to shove past, but Aidan effortlessly controlled both their mounts, cutting him off.
Fire blazed in Nellusion’s eyes.
“My sister is in there—move aside!”
“Your sister is not here. Only my lord is.”
“What nonsense? She’s right there, looking at me!”
He raged, looking half-mad. Nerys dropped the curtain with a mocking smile.
Sister? Nellusion had only ever had one. Once that truth had stung her. Now she was grateful.
If she had truly been his blood sister, not even marriage could have freed her from him.
“Go on. He’s making a scene.”
“As my wife commands.” (T/N: WIFEEEE?!! WIFEEEEEEEE?!!!!!!??)
The coachman whipped the reins, the carriage rolling away from Nellusion.
Nerys knew why he had come back. That clever mind of his had pieced it together: if she could use the Jeweled Eyes but once a day, she would never waste it on him.
The cushions were soft beneath her. As she leaned back, Cledwyn shifted closer. They no longer sat facing each other, but side by side.
“Your left hand.”
“…All right.”
He slipped the diamond ring onto her finger. His hands were warm, untainted by perfume. Just his nearness felt comforting.
The weight of the ring was cool, heavy—and strangely reassuring. She held her hand up to the light, letting the jewel catch the sun.
Even as Crown Princess, she had never worn such a stone. Only in the Empress’s jewel box, on days portraits were painted, might such a diamond appear.
Pure brilliance radiated from it.
Unthinkingly, she whispered:
“Your eyes are like this. Not Jeweled Eyes, but sometimes when the light strikes, they shine white like this.”
“Exactly. And the purple stones are like yours.”
“What was the original setting?”
“An emerald. I had it removed and set aside.”
“In your mother’s drawing room? The one with her portrait?”
“Yes. How did you know?”
“It just suits that place.”
That room seemed frozen in time, preserving the late Grand Duchess’s era. Nerys lowered her hand, resting it primly on her lap.
“I thought the same.”
“…So what now? Do we go to a priest? They won’t easily marry us.”
Technically, all that was required was a consecrated priest and the free vows of the couple.
But nothing among nobles was ever simple. Priests—especially those officiating great houses—required lengthy negotiations.
Grand Dukes usually paid dearly to the Pope himself to secure marriages. Otherwise, rival lords would bribe him to block the union.
In short: unless handsomely bribed, the Church withheld approval.
Even minor priests in the capital would tread carefully. But Cledwyn only smiled, as though prepared. His eyes lingered with satisfaction on the ring adorning her hand.
“Don’t worry. I’ve found a priest who will marry us.”
“You’ve arranged it already? How far from here?”
“A week.”
A week from the capital?
Nerys blinked. Cledwyn lifted her hand and kissed each finger tenderly.
“…A week’s ride—Ulevis? The Papal States?”
“Correct.”
“Why would the Pope approve? Did you mean you secured the Pope himself?”
“No. But he isn’t the only priest in Ulevis.” (T/N: Ren?)
Few in the world could refer to the Pope as “that man.” Nerys’s head throbbed.
“So we’re… leaving now? You even prepared the journey?”
“Of course.”
“And if I refused?”
“Then we’d ride straight to Maindulante instead.”
Either way, departure was inevitable.
It was outrageous, but the joy shining in his eyes robbed her of any will to scold him.
At least, he was happy again.
To her surprise, a soft laugh escaped her lips.
“When I was a girl, I loved stories about elopements. I never thought I’d play the daring young heroine at my age.”
“You’re twenty. The perfect age to star in such a tale.”
His tone was absurd, coaxing—and it made her laugh in earnest.
❖ ❖ ❖
Outside the carriage, Aidan heard her laughter and smiled unconsciously.
Talfrin, seeing it, pretended to gag.
“Ugh. Even a stone can laugh? The world must be ending.”
“I am no stone.”
“And it talks too!”
Aidan swung his sheathed sword lazily. Talfrin dodged each strike with ease, then slumped dramatically over his saddle.
“The road to Ulevis is long. I only hope nothing happens on the way.”
“Nothing will. Lord Hilbrin remains to guard our hold.”
Not all from Maindulante had joined the journey. In the hours since dawn, there had been no time to empty the townhouse completely.
Some had stayed behind, both to tend the wounded and prepare for the newlywed lord and lady’s return. Dora remained in the Grand Duke’s capital residence, receiving treatment.
They left without worry, for Hilbrin knew how to command men—and his hatred for southerners ensured no intruder would be tolerated.
“At least our Lady Advisor—or rather, our future Grand Duchess—agreed without much struggle. She’s rather trusting.”
Talfrin sighed. Aidan raised a brow.
“Do you regret it?”
“That the traps I spent weeks preparing to trigger never got used? Slightly.”
Nerys’s imprisonment in House Elandria had angered them all. But Cledwyn had turned that outrage into opportunity.
For weeks, Talfrin had maneuvered in secret, ensuring the crown would push for a marriage between Cledwyn and Princess Izet.
Yet instead of demanding proof of the Imperial plot, Nerys had quietly climbed into the carriage.
“It worked out well.”
“You talk too much today. Because of our Lady?”
Aidan only smiled. Talfrin, after a moment, smiled too.
The carriage rolled on, bound for holy ground.
(T/N: What a banger of a chapter!)