CHAPTER 081
Baroness Rosalind's Mansion
"A messenger has arrived from the palace."
Rosalind's secretary entered the study to report, just as the baroness was preparing to head to the palace.
Raising her meticulously drawn eyebrows, the baroness shifted her gaze to her secretary, while the messenger followed in and bowed.
"I was just about to head to the palace. What is the matter?"
"I have come to inform you that today's lesson with the empress has been canceled."
The baroness's eyebrows furrowed slightly at the messenger's reply.
"Why?"
"His Majesty is not feeling well and has canceled all duties for today."
The baroness showed genuine surprise.
Until now, Emperor Maxwell had never canceled his duties due to illness. He was known for his grueling work schedule, with no days off.
On days he wasn’t handling palace affairs, he was either inspecting territories, going undercover, or leading the army on the battlefield.
It was those serving under him who suffered due to the emperor's iron-like stamina, and no one blamed the irreverent wish that the emperor might catch a cold and rest for a day or two.
How unwell must he be to cancel all duties for the day?
"His Majesty is unwell?"
"Oh, it's nothing to worry about. The royal physician said a day of rest would clear up the fatigue from the war."
"Then why has the empress's lesson been canceled?"
"The Crown Princess is nursing His Majesty..."
"Isn't there a physician and professional caregivers?"
The messenger from the emperor's office replied with an awkward smile.
"His Majesty ordered it."
The messenger's smile implied the obvious, and the baroness opened her fan and fanned herself.
Everyone, even the children at the market, knew how much Emperor Maxwell adored his betrothed.
The emperor, who seemed like he wouldn't bleed even if pricked with a needle, or if he did, would bleed cold blue blood instead of red, would smile whenever he saw his fiancée's shadow.
Baroness Rosalind, who had taught the emperor and her late husband royal etiquette in their childhood, knew well.
The emperor’s eyes, which appeared calm and noble without any emotional upheaval, actually harbored no real emotions.
The emperor, who had been threatened and betrayed by his own blood and close aides since birth, seemed to have sealed away the concept of emotions in his heart.
As if he believed that having emotions would cause the fortress he built to protect himself from crumbling.
To him, people were divided into those necessary and unnecessary for achieving his goals at the moment, and their positions could change as easily as flipping a hand.
Yet now, he was openly revealing the emotions he had sealed away for a woman.
Or perhaps, until he met her, he hadn't even had emotions to seal away.
Maybe he was learning unknown emotions because of her.
The emperor was proving the phrase from a common romance novel that there is one emotion that cannot be hidden no matter how hard you try—'love.'
Since the death of Crown Prince Luca and his wife, the frozen palace might finally see a warm spring again.
Thinking of the diligent Crown Princess, who followed her lessons without complaint despite her rosy cheeks, a faint smile spread on the baroness's lips.
"And His Majesty asked me to deliver this message to the baroness."
The messenger, attempting to imitate the emperor's demeanor, raised his chin slightly and lowered his gaze haughtily.
After hesitating momentarily at the challenging task of raising one corner of his mouth while twisting it slightly, the messenger spoke.
"As the baroness knows, nursing the emperor is one of the empress's virtues. Therefore, Lady Arabelle has, in a sense, attended today's lesson. So, I trust there will be no extra assignments given for the canceled lesson."
The baroness's eyes narrowed at the emperor's message.
The emperor, realizing that more assignments would mean less time spent with Arabelle, had preemptively prevented it.
Suppressing an incredulous smile, the baroness nodded to the messenger.
***
"Is the rumor true?"
After greeting Baroness Rosalind and stepping out to the foyer, the messenger was approached by two maids who whispered softly.
"What rumor?"
The messenger tilted his head in question, and the young maids blushed as they spoke.
"That during the picnic last time, when it suddenly started raining, His Majesty wrapped his cloak around the Crown Princess."
The messenger, looking bewildered as if wondering how they knew, collected himself and nodded.
How could they not know? The sensation of that morning had spread far and wide before noon.
One late autumn morning before the emperor went off to war, the emperor and Arabelle were enjoying a peaceful picnic by the lake when a sudden downpour ruined everything.
The weather had been so clear that no one had brought umbrellas, and the maids and guards hurriedly held up cloths over the emperor and Arabelle’s heads.
But before they could cover Arabelle, she was already wrapped from head to toe in the emperor's long cloak.
The emperor had thrown his cloak over Arabelle at the speed of lightning the moment a raindrop touched her hair.
It was a monumental event, especially because it happened outside, with everyone watching, not in a private setting.
The emperor himself gets wet in the rain to protect his betrothed.
Protecting and caring for the empress was the responsibility of the maids and guards, and no emperor had ever given his cloak to the empress, let alone wrapped her in it, while he got wet himself.
The same was true for the high aristocracy. Particularly for noble couples united through arranged marriages, they dutifully fulfilled their marital obligations but refrained from unsolicited acts of affection.
They had servants to take care of them, and such displays of affection were deemed unbecoming of their stature.
"Oh my, oh my. How wonderful."
At the messenger's affirmative answer, the young maids clapped their hands softly and squealed in delight.
Several other servants gathered behind them, focusing on the messenger's words.
"That's just the tip of the iceberg."
The messenger, glancing around, whispered.
"Is there more to it?"
The maids asked, eyes sparkling with curiosity.
The messenger, as if revealing a secret, continued.
"Not only did he cover her with his cloak..."
Pausing for effect, the messenger looked at the women clasping their hands in anticipation.
"He carried her all the way back to the palace, saying she mustn't catch a cold."
"Oh my!"
The maids gasped as if reading the climax of a romance novel, prompting the delighted messenger to add another detail.
"And one more thing! His Majesty carried the Crown Princess barefoot."
As the messenger walked out the door, the women's sighs of admiration followed him for a long time.
“Hoo, hoo.”
Arabelle’s still slightly swollen, delicate lips continuously blew on the hot soup to cool it down.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, she brought a spoonful of suitably cooled soup to the Emperor.
The Emperor, reclining against the headboard, opened his red lips and spoke in a feeble voice.
“I have no appetite.”
“Just one more bite. You need to eat well to regain your strength quickly.”
Her clear eyes were filled with concern as she tried to persuade him.
“Since that is the wish of my future Empress, I shall comply.”
“Yes. Now, ah…”
As Arabelle’s mouth formed an “O” and made a sound, the Emperor obediently opened his mouth and drank the soup. Like a well-behaved child, he swallowed the soup.
Seeing his compliance, Arabelle smiled and carefully wiped the corners of his mouth with a napkin.
“I think I could manage a few grapes.”
“Really?”
Arabelle’s face lit up as she quickly picked up the fruit plate from the tray and placed it on her lap.
She plucked grapes from the bunch and fed them to the Emperor one by one.
Despite the sensation of his tongue lingering over her fingers each time she fed him a grape, Arabelle continued her nurturing, like a mother bird feeding her chick.
“With such dedicated care, once His Majesty drinks the prescribed tonic after finishing his meal, he should be completely recovered by tonight.”
Sir George, who had just entered with the tonic to examine the Emperor, spoke to reassure the future Empress.
But sensing a sharp glare, he quickly corrected himself.
“I mean… after a good night’s rest, perhaps by tomorrow morning, or late morning at the latest… he will be fully recovered.”
“Is it alright for him to be like this, experiencing chills one moment and suffering from a fever the next? Even the blankets don’t seem to help.”
Sir George read the Emperor’s expression over Arabelle’s shoulder before responding to her worried questions.
“Hmm… When he experiences chills, it’s important to keep him warm by any means necessary. Nothing wards off cold better than body heat, as you know.”
Glancing at the Emperor once more, Sir George added, “Tonight might be the peak of his chills. Your care is extremely important. Please take good care of him.”
“Do not worry. I will do my best.”
Resolutely determined to nurse the Emperor back to health, Arabelle stood with a firm expression, while the shamelessly feigning Emperor continued his act.
As Sir George hurriedly left the bedchamber, he pondered the newly discovered talent he had realized in his sixty years of life: acting.
The realization came thanks to His Majesty. Both during the banquet held for the selection of the future Empress, and now, Sir George had to act because of the Emperor.
Despite being healthy enough to return to the battlefield and confront hundreds of enemies, the Emperor was pretending to be sick.
When Sir George brought the tonic—a strong infusion of acacia honey—the Emperor, despite it being sweet, pretended it was bitter, grimacing as he drank it.
Watching this, Arabelle gently caressed the Emperor’s hand and quickly popped a piece of candy into his mouth.
Though he sensed that this would not be the last of the Emperor’s feigned illnesses, Sir George resigned himself to this theatrical role, noticing the change in the Emperor’s usually sharp demeanor.
Since his Crown Prince days, Sir George had treated the Emperor’s wounds from assassins’ blades and arrows. He knew that the love and stability Arabelle brought to the Emperor were more effective than any medicine.
For the first time, the Emperor, who had never acted childishly, was pretending to be ill, showing that he was human after all. Sir George found this oddly reassuring.
‘But why did he ask for ice…?’
Momentarily pausing, Sir George shook his head and continued walking, not wanting to delve further into that thought.
***
As soon as Sir George left, the Emperor resumed his severe chills.
His teeth chattered, and his chest heaved like a stone.
Just as she had done all day, Arabelle hurriedly got under the blankets and embraced the Emperor.
When the chills first began, Arabelle had attempted to pile more blankets on him, but the Emperor had grabbed her wrist and said,
“Blankets are useless… I need body heat. You know how animals trapped in a snowstorm huddle together for warmth.”
Shivering as he spoke, the Emperor’s words had prompted Arabelle to climb into bed without hesitation and wrap her arms around him.
Claiming that the fabric prevented proper warmth from transferring, the Emperor had quickly stripped both of their clothes and tossed them aside, then buried his face in her collarbone, muttering.
After Sir George left, the Emperor continued to draw warmth from Arabelle’s entire body until he suddenly lifted his head and spoke.
“My mouth feels like it’s burning…”
Meeting her eyes with a pained expression, the Emperor licked his lips.
“It seems like your fever is rising.”
Caressing his forehead and face, Arabelle spoke with a worried frown.
The heat emanating from his body, driven by desire, was misinterpreted by Arabelle as a fever.
“I should get a cold cloth…”
When Arabelle moved to get a cold cloth, the Emperor quickly enclosed her body with his hands and pulled her back to him.
“Don’t go. I’m so cold I can’t think straight.”
The Emperor, combining heat and chills, whispered to Arabelle, who was tenderly caressing him.
“Drinking cold water might help a bit.”
When Arabelle reached for the water glass and brought it to his lips, the Emperor took a sip but then shook his head.
“Lukewarm water only seems to ignite the heat more.”
“Ice! Sir George brought a dish of ice shards along with the tonic!”
Brightening at the thought, Arabelle reached for the dish of ice shards and brought it to the Emperor.
She picked up an ice shard and offered it to him, but the Emperor rested his head on her chest and spoke weakly.
“Just looking at it makes me feel colder. I fear it might make the chills worse. It would be better if the ice wasn’t so cold.”
“What should I do…? Should I hold it in my hand to melt it a bit?”
Instead of answering, the Emperor gazed at Arabelle’s face with his crimson eyes.
As he saw her anxiety, a twinge of something that felt like guilt pricked him.
He knew he was acting like a scoundrel, but he couldn’t stop, driven by an insatiable desire.
This had all started when he had coughed a few times, realizing that Arabelle, with her concern, would focus entirely on him, pushing aside the assignments given by Baroness Rosalind.
When she asked, “Is Your Majesty feeling unwell?” and touched his forehead, the Emperor’s mindbegann to work at lightning speed.
What began as a brief feigned illness had turned into an opportunity to monopolize her care and attention.
Receiving such tender care from her, the Emperor felt a sense of fulfillment he had never known.
He had always believed that being cared for equated to showing weakness, something he had avoided all his life.
Now, for the first time, he felt his body relax.
If it makes you happy, I’ll do anything.
I will remove anything that worries you.
But…
If I confess that I want you to worry about me, you’d think I’m crazy.
The Emperor’s long finger gently traced Arabelle’s lips as his deep voice caressed her ear.
“It seems quicker to melt the ice in my mouth. I can directly feed it to you.”
As his heated red eyes locked onto her quivering light brown ones, he placed the ice shard against her lips.
“Why don’t we finish the healing ability of your black panther that we started when I was injured at Earl Beryl’s estate?”
His head tilted and his lips hovered close to her face as he whispered, making Arabelle blush deeply.
Slightly parting her lips, she allowed his fingers and two small ice shards into her mouth.
With his palm gently cupping her neck, he drew her closer.
“My mouth is burning with thirst. I can’t wait any longer.”
With a firm nose gently grazing her round nose, he opened his lips and slowly moved in.
Taking the still-unchilled ice shards into his mouth, he chewed and swallowed them before retrieving more ice from the dish and placing it in her small mouth.
Long after all the ice shards had disappeared from the dish, a satisfied smile finally graced the Emperor’s lips.
***
Near midnight.
“Your Majesty, Sir Timothy of Count Corald’s family urgently requests an audience.”
From outside the chamber door connecting to the antechamber, Commander Jacob’s voice was heard.
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