I Got Married to a Yandere Queen
Chapter 56 - 55 - Silk and Salt

Chapter 56: Chapter 55 - Silk and Salt

Riven stared at Ashtoria sitting on the bed, his eyes struggling to pull away from the queen’s figure clad in a thin black nightgown that outlined her slender silhouette. The silk fabric clung to her shape, tracing the curves of her body, highlighting her pale shoulders and collarbones that seemed to catch the flickering glow of the oil lamp.

His heart pounded—too fast, too loud, like it might burst through his chest. He quickly averted his gaze, as if seeking an anchor to steady his spiraling thoughts—and found his sister.

Mira.

The girl lay curled up on a small sofa in the corner of the room, still dressed in her usual plain clothes. Her breathing was steady, eyes closed. But it wasn’t a peaceful sleep... Riven recognized that look. Mira hadn’t just fallen asleep—she had fainted. Her slightly rounded belly made it clear she had overeaten. In front of the sofa, a small table stood with an empty tray resting on top.

Riven sighed and shook his head slightly as he looked at her.

’How do I even have a little sister like this...’

"Let’s go to bed," Ashtoria said casually. Her voice was calm, almost innocent, as if unaware of the weight those words carried. She shifted slightly, one hand bracing her from behind, the other tucking a lock of long hair behind her ear.

Riven swallowed, not realizing he had done so.

His eyes flicked back to Ashtoria—she looked completely unaware—or maybe simply unconcerned—about how dangerously inviting her appearance and position were to a man. But the most unsettling part was that this wasn’t forced. She wanted to be here with him.

In silence, Riven grabbed a thin blanket folded neatly in an open cabinet. Gently, he covered Mira, making sure her small frame was wrapped comfortably. He brushed her hair once, then stood and walked over to the bed.

He climbed on and sat at the edge, directly facing Ashtoria, who now looked at him with calm, steady eyes.

The dim lamp cast soft shadows in her gaze, and in that moment, the world shrank—leaving just the two of them, breathing in silence thick enough to drown in, accompanied only by the sound of the night and the thunderous rhythm of a racing heartbeat.

Riven still couldn’t believe that the woman before him was the ruler of the most feared kingdom on the continent. Everything felt too surreal, especially seeing her seated so quietly, sharing a bed with him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

He rubbed the back of his neck slowly, trying to gather his breath, trying to salvage what little logic remained.

"...Don’t you know," he finally said, his voice hesitant, almost familiar with the words as if he had asked them before, "that usually only lovers... or married couples... sleep in the same bed?"

Ashtoria tilted her head slightly. Her face remained expressionless, as if his words were no more than a passing breeze. She thought for a moment, then gave a small shake of her head.

"Haven’t we already slept together before?" she replied calmly, her voice soft and honest, like a child stating a simple fact.

Riven paused, then frowned slightly.

"That was... different," he said, his voice dropping. "Back then we were in the middle of the forest. On the ground."

Ashtoria blinked slowly.

"What’s the difference?"

Riven didn’t answer right away. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. That simple question had disarmed him completely.

What was the difference?

She knew there was one. Sharing a bed in the middle of the forest was not at all the same as sharing a warm, soft mattress in a quiet room with a woman wearing a silk nightgown.

But how could he explain that without sounding like a fool?

He turned his face away, holding back a breath. ’How can someone be so innocent and yet so dangerous?’ he thought bitterly. His face flushed, his chest tightened, his mind in chaos... and the woman beside him just sat there with that same calm expression, as if none of it mattered.

Maybe that’s why frustration welled up inside him, because it seemed like only he felt flustered. He was the only one sweating, the only one whose heart was beating like a war drum.

Meanwhile, Ashtoria sat still, her face blank as always. But inside, something was rising, a storm pounding against the walls of her awareness.

Riven.

His name echoed in her mind like the tolling of a bell, loud and impossible to ignore. She didn’t know when the feeling had begun. Maybe when he looked her in the eye without fear. Maybe when he treated her with a kindness she’d never known. Maybe when he said her name without title, without formality, without distance.

Or maybe... it was when she realized she didn’t want to be left alone again.

The feeling wasn’t quiet. It didn’t arrive like gentle fog or a soft breeze.

No.

She couldn’t call it love—not yet. The word was too big, too unfamiliar. But after hearing all those people talking about marriage, about companionship and lifelong bonds... she started to understand.

"So this is what it feels like," she thought softly.

"...To fall in love."

This love came like a storm. Like lightning striking before she had the chance to brace herself.

And now, everything was unraveling.

Every second with Riven felt too fast and too slow at the same time. Every move he made stole her attention. Every word he spoke left her breathless. She tried to act normal—calm, rational, detached. But inside, the sea had broken. Waves surged uncontrollably within her.

She didn’t know what she was supposed to do. All she knew was one thing:

She didn’t want to be away from him. Didn’t want to sleep apart. Didn’t want to part ways in the morning. Didn’t want to be left behind.

Ashtoria still said nothing. She simply leaned slightly toward Riven, then gently rested her shoulder against his arm—lightly, as if trying not to make a fuss, but enough to be felt.

Riven tensed. He slowly turned his head, looking at her up close. The distance between them now... was dangerously small.

"Ast—"

Before he could finish, Ashtoria raised her hand and placed it on his chest. Right above his pounding heart. Her fingers were cool and delicate. Her expression was still unreadable, but from this close, Riven saw the faint tremble in her eyes.

"...It’s beating fast. Just like mine," she murmured softly, almost like she was speaking to herself.

Riven swallowed again.

But Ashtoria didn’t pull away. Instead, she tucked her legs onto the bed, moved closer, and slowly knelt beside him. Her body leaned forward slightly. Her hand remained on his chest, her breath warm against his neck.

"I like the sound of your heartbeat," she whispered, pressing her ear to his chest.

"Why..." Riven closed his eyes for a moment, trying to steady his breath, "...why can you say things like that like it’s completely normal?"

Ashtoria looked up, her slender fingers tracing gently over his chest—following the rhythm of his chaotic heart, as if trying to memorize it.

"I think..."

Her voice fell softly, like dew on a leaf.

"...I’m in love with you."

The confession landed between them like a fallen star—luminous, impossible, burning through the fragile space separating their bodies. Riven’s breath stuttered, his pulse hammering so violently he wondered if she could see it jumping in his throat.

’Gods.’

His hands moved before sense could catch up, silk sheets hissing as he pinned her beneath him. One knee slid between her thighs as his fingers intertwined with hers, pressing their joined hands into the mattress above her head. The scent of her—night-blooming roses and something uniquely her—flooded his senses.

"You can’t say that," he hissed, his voice rough with turmoil. "We’ve only known each other for a few days. You’re a queen. I—" His teeth clenched. "—I’m nobody. Just a poor man who stumbled upon you by chance."

Ashtoria didn’t resist. Her eyes—deep red like aged wine—simply watched him, her expression slowly shifting. Her blood-red lips pursed.

"Am I not allowed to love you?"

Her voice suddenly changed—cold, sharp, yet trembling with something strange beneath, like anger laced with desperation.

The last thread of Riven’s control snapped.

"You’re driving me crazy."

He claimed her mouth like a drowning man gasping for air—not with bruising force, but with devastating precision. His lips moved over hers with slow, worshipful intent, drinking every hitched breath, every stifled whimper. When her teeth caught his lower lip in retaliation, he groaned into the kiss, the sound vibrating through both their bodies.

Heat pooled low in Ashtoria’s belly, unfamiliar yet intoxicating. Her fingers tangled in his hair as her back arched, chasing the delicious friction of his body against hers. Each deliberate movement of his lips, each scrape of teeth against sensitive skin sent liquid fire racing through her veins.

’This... what is this?’

She didn’t understand the sudden heat spreading through her body. Didn’t understand why her breath came in short gasps, or why her fingers trembled as they clutched his shoulders. But one thing she knew: She wanted more.

"Riven-" His name spilled from her lips like a prayer, fractured and desperate.

He answered by trailing kisses along her jaw, down the column of her throat, pausing to lavish attention on the frantic pulse fluttering beneath her skin. The hand not pinning hers crept beneath the scandalously thin silk, calloused fingers tracing the delicate ridges of her ribs.

"Tell me to stop," he breathed against her collarbone, though his touch turned possessive, mapping the dip of her waist with reverent intensity.

Ashtoria’s response was to roll her hips against his, drawing a ragged groan from them both. When she spoke, her voice was dark with promise:

"Show me."

And the world dissolved into flame.