Chapter 2 #6
“You’re blushing again. Tsk, I would have taken you again if it weren’t for those pests outside….”
Maxi shrank away from him.
“Don’t cower like that. They’ll smash the door down if they hear us at it again.” He gave her a playful peck on the tip of her nose before setting her back down.
Wrapped in the cocoon of her blanket, she rubbed the spot he had kissed and watched as Riftan picked up his clothes and began to dress. She quickly averted her eyes, but he seemed unfazed by his own nakedness.
In no time at all, Riftan was fully clothed, armored, and giving her instructions. “Wait right here,” he said as he strapped on his sword.
Maxi nodded. She was in no state to leave the room; her shaking legs would give out if she even tried to stand. When Riftan left the room, she crawled to the headboard to crack open the window.
Beneath the pale blue autumn sky was a cluster of small villages.
Some five or six wooden cottages stood against the horizon, and unpaved dirt roads, grooved by carriage wheels, wound through a vast orchard and a sea of scattered meadows.
Maxi drank in the pastoral view until she sensed an intense gaze and looked down.
Three knights were gathered by the carriage parked in front of the inn, and they were staring up at her. Startled, she hurriedly slammed the window shut. She had covered herself with a blanket, but she did not want all those strange men to see her disheveled state.
Did I delay their departure?
She bit her lip. Moments later, someone knocked at the door.
“W-Who is it?” Maxi called in answer.
“Water for your morning ablutions, m’lady.”
“C-Come in.” Still wrapped in her blanket, Maxi sat on the edge of the bed, hugging her knees.
Two maidservants entered with a large washbasin, kettle, and snow-white towel in their hands. They exchanged uneasy looks.
“We’re here at your husband’s behest, m’lady,” one said.
“I c-can do it m-myself.”
“He said you would need help.”
Maxi’s face became hot. “It’s r-really all right. I will t-tell my h-husband.”
The women didn’t insist further. They set the items on the table and quietly exited the room. Maxi waited until their footsteps grew faint before she stood from the bed and locked the door. She then soaked the towel in warm water and began to wash her aching body.
The warm water refreshed her. As she wiped away the sticky layer of sweat and secretions, she noticed the red and purple marks strewn across her shoulders, chest, arms, and legs.
Was this how every woman found herself after performing her marital duties? Recalling the previous night, Maxi blushed again. Though she knew that no amount of scrubbing would make the love marks disappear, she rubbed at them furiously with the wet towel.
Spending the night with Riftan had been as taxing as it was embarrassing.
But she had not felt the same terror as she had three years ago.
If Maxi was honest with herself, Riftan’s embrace—his smile and gentle kisses—had enraptured her in a way that she had never thought possible.
Far from finding her inadequate, Riftan truly seemed pleased with her as his wife.
He had even said that when he left her on their wedding night, he did so with great reluctance.
It felt like a dream. Afraid of the sparks reigniting inside her, she plunged her head into the washbasin.
She washed her tangled hair with soap and dried it with a towel before applying a generous amount of perfumed oil.
She had just started combing her hair when there was another knock at the door.
“My lady, your husband has sent you a change of clothes.”
Maxi opened the door just enough to receive a dress through the gap. It was rose red and embroidered with gold thread. As she unfolded it, a girdle, a sash, and a thin piece of cloth that resembled an undergarment fluttered to the floor.
The undergarment was not that different from the one her nursemaid had given her. She blushed. How had he managed to find such salacious clothing in this backwater? And surely there was some mistake. He did not think this was her taste in clothing, did he?
She covered her face and was whimpering in dismay when another series of knocks interrupted her. This time, it was Riftan.
“Maxi,” he called through the door. “Did you get the clothes? Have you changed?”
“N-Not yet…”
“Hurry. We must leave soon.”
“One m-moment…”
At his urging, she hastily put on the flimsy undergarment.
Feeling no less naked than before, she threw on the white chemise and pulled the extravagant red-and-gold dress over her head, tugging on the flowy skirt until it grazed her ankles.
She was not used to getting dressed without servants to assist her, and though she managed to fasten the bodice, the laces on the back were impossible to reach.
She was sighing in frustration, her shoulders cramping from the strain, when Riftan knocked again.
“Are you dressed yet?”
“Uh…Um…”
“What?”
“C-Could you s-send someone t-to help me?”
Riftan made no reply, so Maxi pressed on.
“The s-straps on the b-back…”
“Open the door.”
“P-Pardon?”
“Open the door!”
Maxi slowly opened the door, clutching the dress to prevent it from sliding off. Riftan pushed past her and closed the door behind him. As he appraised her from head to toe, she stammered out an apology.
“I-I’m s-s-s—forgive m-me for b-being so s-slow. But the d-d-dress…”
“Don’t apologize. I’m not angry,” he said, examining her flowing skirt and voluminous sleeves. “I don’t know much about women’s clothes. It didn’t occur to me that getting dressed alone could be difficult.”
An awkward silence followed. Maxi clenched her fingers in the fabric of the dress, deep in self-deprecating thought.
Do such lavish clothes suit me? Do I not look ridiculous?
Without warning, Riftan took her shoulders and turned her around. “Let me help you.”
“Uh…I…”
As he laced up the bodice, something about the rustle of the dress put Maxi on edge. After much fumbling—Riftan clearly was unused to handling women’s clothes—he spun her around to face him again.
“All done.”
“Th-Thank you…”
“I bought it from a merchant who happened to be staying nearby. It may not be to your liking, but this is the best I could do. I’ll find you something nicer once we’re home.”
Maxi blinked. This dress was more luxurious than anything she had ever worn. Was it not to his liking?
Her life hadn’t been as extravagant as he imagined.
All of Maxi’s old dresses had been sewn by the maidservants at Croyso Castle, pieced together from scraps of fabric left over from Rosetta’s clothes.
Only Rosetta had ever known their father’s generosity; Maxi had never worn anything so richly embroidered.
That Riftan was concerned she would not find the clothes acceptable disheartened her.
Perhaps he was more used to luxury than she had assumed. And perhaps it was a good thing that she hadn’t brought her belongings. What a stroke of luck, to have avoided the humiliation of putting her shabby wardrobe on display.
Pretending to straighten a crease in her skirt, Maxi attempted to speak in a detached manner. “This d-dress isn’t so b-bad.”
Anxious that she had come across as too haughty, she quickly searched his face.
But Riftan displayed no signs of displeasure.
As he draped a cloak around her shoulders, she turned her attention to his hands, which carefully fastened the cloak.
It was a surreal sight, a knight attending to her most trivial of needs.
Riftan helped her into a pair of ankle-high leather shoes and then spoke. “Come. Let’s go.”
Maxi blushed and nodded. Hand in hand, they stepped out of the room and walked down a wooden staircase. Downstairs, armored knights were milling about a tavern crammed so full of tables and chairs that they had to carefully plan their paths.
One of the knights crossed his arms when he saw them. “I thought we were going to spend the whole day here, Commander. Are we leaving now?”
Riftan ignored him and ushered Maxi outside.
At the door, another knight approached them and complained loudly. “Come now, Commander. We’re not going to gobble the lady up. No need to shield her so.”
“Shut your mouth,” Riftan said sternly. “Haven’t I told you to watch your tongue?”
Maxi looked at the knight with bewilderment.
He was a curly-haired young man, tall and well built.
His sharp gaze was completely devoid of friendliness.
Behind him stood another knight, this one blond and equally disapproving as he assessed Maxi.
She hid herself behind Riftan, earning herself a loud snort from the blond man.
“This is ludicrous!” he said. “Going so far, just for the daughter of the Duke of Croyso…”
“I told you to shut up!” Riftan’s growl was a clear warning, and the men finally held their tongues. He turned to Maxi and pushed her into the carriage before following her inside.
“Don’t mind them,” he reassured her, and slammed the carriage door closed. “They have no love for your father, but you are no longer a Croyso. You are now Lady Calypse, my wife. And I’ll make sure they never disrespect you again.”
The daughter of the Duke of Croyso. It was an unpleasant reminder of how their union had come to be. Unable to think of a suitable reply, Maxi fixed her eyes on her knees.
“Have my men hurt your feelings?” Riftan’s voice was tinged with concern.
She looked up in disbelief. No one had ever bothered to ask about her feelings, yet here he was eager to address the smallest slight to her. He spoke like a man walking on eggshells. Maxi smiled in spite of herself.
“You know…” Riftan gazed at her, an inscrutable expression on his face.
“Y-Yes?”
“This is the first time you’ve smiled at me.”
As he reached over to caress her cheek, her breath caught in her throat. His lips quivered as if he had something to say. The moment quickly passed—Riftan withdrew his hand and bellowed through the carriage window, pretending nothing had happened.
“What are you all waiting for? You said we were in a hurry!”
Someone outside grumbled, and the carriage began to move.
In the awkward silence, Maxi stole glances at Riftan.
He leaned his head against the window and closed his eyes as if he had forgotten about her presence.
The sight calmed her nerves, and she soon found herself following his lead, leaning against the wall.
Weary from days of anxiety, Maxi barely noticed the bumps in the road below. She drifted off to sleep, as if the carriage and its rattling were a gently rocking cradle.