chapter 12
“Wait a second!”
As soon as the dizziness cleared from her vision, Isabel gasped for breath, her voice rising in desperation.
“Look at me, will you? Please?”
She was soaked from head to toe. Beads of sweat clung to her forehead before trailing down, and something sticky clung unpleasantly to her calf. But none of that mattered, she had to stop him.
Just hold on. Just for a moment. She called out again, louder this time, but he didn’t respond.
That broad back of his only grew farther away.
She tried to chase after him with all her strength, but she had never been much of a runner, even as a child. And he—taller and broader than most kids his age—was impossible to keep up with.
Then, all of a sudden, he came to a stop and turned to face her.
His sunken gaze met hers.
Black hair. A straight, handsome face. His entire body drenched in someone else’s blood.
The moment she got a clearer look, Isabel realized—she knew him.
Of course she did. She had even given him a nickname once. He’d grumbled about how she was shortening someone else’s name without permission, but in truth, he hadn’t seemed to mind all that much. She could still picture it clearly.
“Why are you acting like this all of a sudden?”
She asked, already knowing he wouldn’t give her a real answer — he never did.
“It’s nothing. Just… my problem.”
He muttered that he needed to think and then, to her frustration, turned the question back on her.
“What about you? Why’d you chase after me so hard?”
Well—because you were covered in blood.
Isabel grabbed his wrist without hesitation and began scrubbing the blood from it with a handkerchief.
“So what if it’s not my blood?”
She ignored him and kept cleaning, carefully wiping away every trace of red.
Words she couldn’t say echoed inside her.
‘Even if it’s not your blood… I just don’t want to see it on you. I can’t stand seeing your face, your body, stained like that. It hurts.’
‘I want you to live. And if possible… I want you to live well.’
Whenever Isabel looked at him, she felt a mixture of warmth and pain that left her breathless.
This was because, despite his sharp eyes and brilliant intellect, he never seemed to truly perceive the world around him.
“You done? Then get moving.”
“Forget it. Just lead the way.”
“Huh?”
“I’ll walk you home.”
His expression had been twisted with conflict, but when he looked down at her with clearer eyes, it lifted her spirits.
Yes, that was better. Seeing him no longer covered in blood, Isabel smiled softly.
‘Let’s just go home for now.’
But when they arrived at their destination, Isabel could hardly believe her eyes.
Everything had been reduced to ashes.
But that wasn’t the end of it.
Uncle…?
The moment she saw him, a sharp pain exploded in her head, and she felt as though she was sinking into a swamp once more.
“Isabel!”
Someone’s voice—a low, anguished cry—rang in her ears.
And Isabel closed her eyes.
🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁
A firm hand brushed her cheek.
The moment Isabel realized it was Kailhart’s, she flinched and quickly pushed herself upright.
Her blurred vision gradually cleared, and she found herself staring up at his face.
“Y-Your Majesty…?”
What was going on?
The last thing she could recall was being shoved into the lake. Something strange had wrapped itself around her and pulled her under the water. Then she must have lost consciousness.
Something important had happened — something she felt she needed to remember.
But she couldn’t focus on that right now.
Kailhart’s brows were drawn together sharply.
The air around him felt razor-sharp, as though it could cut, but there was something different about the stiffness in his expression. It wasn’t his usual cold mask.
It looked almost like concern.
‘He’s… worried about me?’
Just as Isabel registered that subtle difference, the expression vanished from his face.
“Your Majesty.”
She felt the firmness of his chest.
Thump. Thump.
His heartbeat echoed against her body—faster, harder than usual. Something about it today felt… different.
Isabel held herself still, exhaling soundlessly.
As her focus returned, her surroundings gradually came into view.
This wasn’t her room.
Gone were the familiar sights she was used to.
She now lay on a simple bed set inside a vast glass-domed conservatory. White sheets surrounded her, and small pots brimming with budding green shoots lined the space nearby.
She had been moved to Kalhart’s greenhouse.
The scent of damp soil and new growth pricked at her nose—an earthy smell she hadn’t realized she’d missed, dulled by the cold, dry stretch of winter they’d been trapped in.
Kailhart slowly pulled away. His hand was damp. There were faint stains on the collar of his clothes right where her face had rested just moments ago.
Had it… come from her?
Only then did Isabel realize, she was crying.
‘Since when…?’
Hurriedly, she tried to wipe her tears away, but a sharp pain shot through her temple.
“Ugh…”
She flinched, grimacing as the piercing throb forced her to hold her breath.
“Isabel, Isabel, Isabel…”
A voice echoed wildly from beneath the pitch-black surface of her mind.
And not just a voice—someone’s face, fragmented like shattered glass, stabbed straight into her heart again and again.
‘What is this…? Why does it hurt so much, and yet feel so precious at the same time?’
Her tear-soaked eyes trembled.
Her vision swayed.
Isabel let out a shaky, hot breath.
‘I have to remember.’
‘I can’t forget.’
‘Whatever it was… it was important. I know it was.’
But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t recall it.
Only vague afterimages drifted through her mind—slippery, indistinct. The more she tried to grasp them, the more they slipped away, like mist between her fingers.
Clutching at her aching chest, Isabel grit her teeth.
The shapeless fragments sank below the surface again, like stones.
She felt it, something solid forming deep inside her.
And she knew, without a doubt: Something has changed.
“How much longer are you going to be like this?”
Kailhart’s voice broke the silence.
His lips were twisted in frustration—his voice rough, cracking ever so slightly.
A rare sight.
A bluish dawn light settled over his back, over his dark hair and shoulders.
“What… do you mean, Your Majesty—?”
“How much longer do you intend to keep making me bleed like this?”
‘So I made him wait.’
Isabel quickly wiped her eyes with her sleeve and lowered her head.
“I deeply apologize for showing Your Majesty such an unsightly—”
But she couldn’t finish.
Kailhart’s hand suddenly tilted her chin upward and his lips brushed against the wet corners of her eyes.
As if trying to kiss her tears away.
At some point, his hand had spread wide over the back of her neck, holding her gently.
Warm breath.
A firm body.
A touch of heat, just above her own.
Isabel braced herself, expecting things to continue as they always did—but paused.
There was no hunger in his touch.
No heat pressing her down.
Only a soft, tentative closeness, as if trying to soothe her.
“If you’re going to protest… find another way.”
Kailhart’s lips brushed softly against the corners of Isabel’s eyes.
‘Don’t do this.’
The words, carried by the heat of his breath, made it impossible for her to breathe properly.
His touch, though familiar from their countless nights together, felt… different.
The warmth on her damp lashes, the way his breath grazed her skin—it all stirred something strange inside her.
“Why do you keep getting yourself into things like this?”
A harsh breath slipped through Kailhart’s clenched teeth.
‘Why… why do you always end up in situations like that, all on your own?’
As he muttered the same question over and over, Isabel—still held tightly in his arms—gradually let her body relax.
‘It’s not like I asked for any of this either…’
Her body was already worn down and had no strength left to resist. A deep fatigue settled into her bones, draining her.
She let her gaze drift upwards towards the glass dome ceiling, where the pale blue light of dawn was beginning to filter in.
Her lips moved.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what now?”
“Your Majesty, I apologise for causing you unnecessary concern. I am not good at behaving properly.”
There was no reply.
“I’ll recover quickly… and return to fulfilling my duties.”
‘It’s what I want too.’
But the moment she felt Kailhart’s chest tense beneath her palms, Isabel quickly added something else.
“Thanks to the physician Your Majesty appointed to me, I’ve seen improvement.”
The bruises and swelling in her limbs had mostly gone down. With a little more rest, she would be able to recover fully soon.
She rambled on with practiced politeness, thinking to herself.
‘I’m certain of what I saw earlier. The moment I was pushed toward the lake… it was someone I knew.’
Even in that brief instant, she recognized the face.
It was the librarian. The same person she had seen almost every afternoon at the palace library lately.
But he couldn’t have been just a librarian. Even at a glance, the look in his eyes had been unmistakable. Cold, pointed malice. His clenched jaw had radiated sharp, bitter emotion.
Hatred. Resentment. The kind of instinctive, vengeful fury that could only belong to someone devoted to Charles.
“Why are your eyes darting around like that?”
Her train of thought shattered.
Kailhart’s large hand came up and covered her eyes.
“Your Majesty, I—”
“If you’ve got the energy to think, start with your body.”
“…”
“Can’t you see? You’re breaking down, bit by bit.”
His low voice brushed against her ear, sounding more like a warning than an expression of concern.
Isabel held her breath, trying to quickly assess the situation.
Outwardly, everything seemed the same as always.
A political marriage born of plunder. A cold, calculated contract forged through mutual benefit. Two bodies trapped by duty. And the looming moment when he would tear her apart again.
Yet something about it all felt different. Unmistakably different.
