A trophy. A tool for legitimizing bloodline.

To Fenrir, who succeeded in his rebellion, Princess Anaide held exactly that much value.

There was a time when they were lovers, but even that was nothing more than an act.

He despised Anaide, who was like a greenhouse flower.

Even if Anaide bore his child,

he was merely pleased to see her acting like a proper queen within the boundaries he’d set for her.

She would remain by his side forever as his wife.

He gazed at Anaide and thought to himself:

He would never love her. Not ever.

* * *

Anaide brushed away Fenrir’s hand from her shoulder.

Slowly, but decisively.

“Your Majesty.”

“…”

“Please let me go now.”

And she added:

“I’ve given you the finest heir to protect the kingdom. My role as queen is finished.”

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