Chapter 29: Too Close to My Husband

[LUCIELLE’S POV — THE HALLWAY — LATER]

I stood frozen in the hallway, staring at my so-called husband; actually, no.

Let me correct that.

My I-never-planned-to-marry-anyone-but-somehow-ended-up-married-to-the-most-dangerously-stubborn-man-in-the-Fantasy-north husband.

Cassian stood in front of me with his arms folded, looking entirely too pleased with himself; he had threatened me, not with a sword, not with an army, and not even with that terrifying Grand Duke glare that made grown men reconsider their life choices.

No.

This man had discovered my ultimate weakness.

My monthly allowance.

. . .

The author had been right; he really was the villain. The original novel probably hadn’t given him enough credit.

I stared at him in disbelief as my brain began loading.

Loading...

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System overheating.

And then—

DING!

An idea appeared. PLAN: SICKNESS.

I immediately put one hand against my forehead and staggered dramatically against the wall.

"Oh..." Cassian’s eyebrow twitched as I swayed. "I suddenly feel dizzy...perhaps..."

I placed the back of my hand against my forehead like an actress in a nineteenth-century melodrama.

"...I have a fever."

Cassian stared at me. "You do not have a fever, beloved."

. . .

Damn it.

No hesitation whatsoever, fine. Plan B.

I suddenly clutched my throat and coughed.

COUGH! COUGH! COUGH!

"Oh, no..." I wheezed. "I have a terrible cold...a very serious one."

Cassian’s expression remained completely unimpressed. I lowered my voice dramatically. "Perhaps even plague. I can feel the bacteria dancing inside me."

There was a long silence. Cassian stared at me. I stared back; finally, he sighed.

"Beloved."

"Yes?"

"Are you planning to step away from the bed yourself..." He walked closer. "...or would you prefer that I carry you?"

I froze; that sounded suspicious...very suspicious. I immediately retreated toward the bed.

"No, no, I’m perfectly capable of—"

I sat down, then slowly pulled the blanket over my legs. Cassian continued approaching. My eyes darted around the room.

Think, Lucielle...think.

I needed another excuse. Something believable and something he couldn’t argue against.

My eyes widened.

PLAN C.

I grabbed the bedpost dramatically as I lowered my voice.

"I...am on my period. The second day...we absolutely bleed in a way that looks like we are murdered."

. . .

. . .

Silence, an absolute silence.

I looked at Cassian. Cassian looked at me; for one beautiful second, I thought I had won, then he calmly said,

"Your cycle is not due yet."

My jaw dropped.

"...What?"

He stepped closer. I tightened my grip on the bedpost. "How do you know that?"

His lips curved into an annoyingly amused smile. "I know everything about my beloved."

My eyes widened.

"WHAT THE—PERV—"

Before I could finish, Cassian reached down and grabbed me around the waist and lifted me effortlessly.

"Wait! WAIT, WAIT, WAIT!" I immediately started struggling in his arms. "CASSIAN!"

He simply adjusted his grip. I kicked my legs. "Put me down! I have approximately seventeen different diseases!"

"No."

"I may be dying!"

"You are shouting rather energetically for someone who is dying."

I stopped.

. . .

That was a fair point. I resumed struggling anyway. "That doesn’t prove anything!"

Cassian laughed softly as he carried me down the hallway. I twisted around in his arms, desperately searching for an escape route—nothing.

The man was a human prison, a very handsome prison. An annoyingly warm prison, but still—A PRISON.

"Mia!"

I spotted her standing nearby; my eyes immediately lit up.

"Help me!"

Mia looked at me then at Cassian and then back at me. I stared at her with the most desperate expression I could produce. Then, to my horror, she placed one hand against her chest and bowed respectfully.

"May Her Grace learn the sword training quickly."

I stared at her as my mouth dropped open. "You..."

Mia smiled sweetly. "...Traitor."

"I apologize, Your Grace."

"You don’t sound sorry!"

Cassian continued walking. I pointed accusingly at Mia; she bowed again. "Your Grace, I believe this is for your own safety."

"SAFETY?!"

I looked at Cassian. "This man is taking me to torture!"

"Training," Cassian corrected.

"Same thing!"

He chuckled as I continued struggling uselessly in his arms. My peaceful life was ending; my pastries were behind me, my bed was behind me, my fox cubs were behind me and my unemployed lifestyle—

DEAD.

Gone, buried, and mourned, and the murderer was my own husband.

I looked over Cassian’s shoulder toward the chamber that was rapidly disappearing down the corridor.

"My beautiful life..." I whispered mournfully. "I barely knew you."

Cassian glanced down at me. "You’ll survive."

I glared at him.

"That’s exactly what villains say before sending their victims into battle."

"I am not sending you into battle."

"You’re giving me a sword."

"To protect yourself."

"I have you!"

"You will not always have me beside you."

I opened my mouth, closed it, and opened it again. He had an irritatingly reasonable argument. I hated reasonable arguments, especially when they threatened my allowance.

Cassian smiled when he saw my expression as he tightened his arm around me slightly.

"Besides...if you learn properly, I’ll increase your allowance."

I froze as my eyes widened. "...What did you say?"

His smile deepened. I immediately stopped struggling. Mia, who was still standing behind us, covered her mouth to hide a laugh.

Cassian looked down at me.

"Interested?"

I stared at him; the Grand Duke had discovered a new weapon, not a sword, not magic, and not political power.

Capitalism.

"...How much?"

Cassian laughed, and just like that, my dignity officially entered negotiations.

***

[LUCIELLE’S POV — ASHCROFT TRAINING FIELD — LATER]

The snow crunched beneath my boots, the wind swept across the training field, the sky was clear, the mountains stood majestically in the distance, and I stood in the middle of it all wearing a proper sword-training outfit, my hair tied back, a wooden practice sword hanging at my side.

I looked down at myself, then slowly looked around. Every single Ashcroft knight was here not doing anything remotely useful; they were watching me.

Rows of knights stood around the field, pretending to be serious while very obviously waiting for something entertaining to happen.

So this was entertainment for them? Wonderful. Apparently, the Grand Duchess’s first sword lesson was today’s equivalent of a public execution.

I fwipped my head toward them, and a few knights suddenly looked toward the sky; one became deeply fascinated by his boots, and another coughed. Cedric, standing near Cassian, maintained the most professional expression imaginable.

"They’re here to watch me suffer." I muttered under my breath.

Cedric immediately answered as he accidentally heard, "No, Your Grace."

"Then why are there twenty-seven knights standing around me?"

He paused.

"...Twenty-six."

I stared at him. "That doesn’t make your answer better."

A few knights looked like they were about to laugh. Cassian stood several steps away from me, looking completely calm.

He was wearing his usual dark training clothes, his sword hanging at his side, and his expression carried the quiet confidence of a man who knew exactly how this was going to end.

I glared at him.

For novel readers, apparently it means watching a husband train his wife in the snow would have been one of those beautiful romantic scenes. The powerful Grand Duke is gently teaching his beautiful wife swordsmanship beneath the falling snow.

Their hands would accidentally touch, their eyes would meet, and the wind would blow dramatically through their hair. Maybe there would even be some tasteful background music.

For me?

This was torture, a cold torture.

Financially motivated torture.

I looked at Cassian. "Just so we’re clear, I’m only here because you threatened my allowance."

His lips twitched.

"You agreed."

"I was coerced."

"You negotiated."

"I was financially blackmailed."

"Yet you’re here."

I sighed.

"Because I have principles."

Cassian raised an eyebrow. "Your principles being what?"

I lifted my chin proudly.

"Money."

A few knights finally snorted. I heard someone cough suspiciously to hide a laugh, and Cassian actually smiled. "Very admirable."

"Thank you."

He walked toward me, and my confidence immediately dropped by approximately forty percent. He stopped in front of me and reached toward the sword at his side.

I instinctively took one step back. Cassian picked up a sword, not his actual weapon, a training sword. Even that looked terrifying in his hands; he turned it once before holding it out toward me.

"Take it."

I stared at the sword and reached for it cautiously. The moment my fingers wrapped around the handle. Cassian stepped behind me. "Hold it properly."

"I am holding it."

"You’re holding it like a broom."

I looked down...he was right. I was gripping the sword with both hands as though I intended to sweep the snow with it.

Cassian gently adjusted my hands. "Like this."

As his fingers wrapped around mine, repositioning them along the hilt, my shoulders stiffened. The knights suddenly became extremely interested in the weather.

Cassian ignored them. "Keep your wrists straight."

I tried.

"Like this?"

"Yes, and now raise the sword."

I raised it as Cassian’s hand steadied mine. "Don’t fight against the weight; you have to control it."

I took a breath, feet apart, hands steady as a sword raised. I looked at my reflection in the polished blade. For one glorious second... I actually looked cool.

Maybe I could do this. Maybe I had hidden talent. Maybe, after all this time, the mysterious laws of this fantasy world had finally looked down upon me and decided, You know what? Let’s give this woman a useful skill.

I raised my chin slightly, trying to look as dignified as possible while holding the sword like my life depended on it.

"How do I look?"

Cassian studied me; for one glorious second, I waited for praise, perhaps something like beautiful or impressive.

Maybe even You look like a natural.

Instead, he said calmly, "Like you’re about to fall."

My confidence died so quickly that I almost felt sorry for it. I stared at him. "You’re terrible at encouragement."

A faint smile appeared on his lips. "I was being honest."

He stepped closer, and before I could complain again, his hands covered mine, and my breath caught. His fingers gently adjusted my grip around the hilt, his palms warm against mine despite the cold wind sweeping across the training field.

"There," he murmured. "Your grip is too tight."

I looked down at our hands; his hands were larger than mine, completely enclosing them as he carefully repositioned my fingers.

"Balance is important, beloved." His voice was quieter now. "Once you learn how to hold the sword properly, you will no longer feel its weight."

I nodded.

"Like this?"

"Yes."

He didn’t move away, and neither did I. His hands remained over mine, steadying the sword while his body stood directly behind me.

There wasn’t even a proper gap between us anymore, not enough for the cold air to pass through.

"This is good..." My voice came out quieter than I intended. I turned my head slightly to look at him and froze as our faces were inches apart.

Not romance-novel inches apart, not the heroine accidentally trips and lands against the male lead inches apart.

Actually.

Inches.

Close enough that I could see every detail of his face, his ocean-blue eyes were looking directly into mine, and for once, there was no teasing in them, no amusement, and no arrogance.

Just warmth.

The kind of warmth that made me suddenly forget that we were standing in the middle of a freezing training field surrounded by approximately half the Ashcroft knights.

I had never really looked at him this closely before; his eyes were even more beautiful from here. Blue like deep water beneath sunlight. His nose was sharp and perfectly shaped, because apparently the universe had decided to spend extra effort when creating this man.

There was a tiny mole beneath his left eyebrow, which I had never noticed before, and then my gaze dropped to his lips.

. . .

. . .

Why did I look at his lips? Am I crazy?

My brain immediately screamed at me to look somewhere else, but I didn’t.

I had spent the last few months worrying about poison attempts, magical beasts, mana stones, imperial politics, and the original plot, and apparently, the newest threat was my husband’s face.

Cassian’s gaze hadn’t left mine, nor had his hands. The sword between us had suddenly become completely irrelevant; the knights around us disappeared from my awareness, the snowy field disappeared, and the mountains disappeared.

Everything seemed to become strangely quiet. I could hear my own heartbeat and...his heartbeat.

My heart started beating faster because I suddenly understood every ridiculous romance novel I’d ever complained about.

The husband teaching his wife how to wield a sword, the close distance, the hands covering hers, the eyes meeting, the cold wind, and the silence.

The ridiculously handsome male lead standing behind the heroine was like the author had personally hired the atmosphere department.

I had mocked this trope. I had laughed at this trope. I had called it predictable, and now I was standing inside it... I was the idiot.

My eyes drifted toward his lips again as my stomach fluttered.

Something inside me tightened, and then, very quietly, a completely unreasonable thought appeared in my mind.

I want to kiss him.

I froze.

. . .

. . .

Excuse me? My brain had officially resigned.

I looked at Cassian again; he was still watching me, still holding my hands, still standing close enough that I could feel his warmth and my heart was beating so loudly that surely he could hear it.

Maybe he could and maybe that was why the corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

I was Minato, a modern person, a person who had spent weeks insisting that this was simply a convenient marriage I had accepted mentally and that I absolutely, definitely, completely did not have romantic feelings for Cassian.

And yet...here I was, staring at his lips. Wanting to close the tiny distance between us.

My thoughts became a complete disaster.

Am I...am I gay? Or is this Luceille’s heart?

I had absolutely no idea.

All I knew was that when Cassian looked at me like this...my heart didn’t seem particularly interested in knowing the answer, and that was far more terrifying than any sword training.