chapter 13
Beneath the surface of her unconscious mind, something stirred and for once, Isabel found the courage to try something different.
“Thank you for your concern.”
As she spoke, Isabel moved her hand, laying it gently atop Kailhart’s, the one that had been covering her eyes.
The moment her skin touched his, Kailhart’s fingers twitched.
She could feel the calluses and faint scars on the back of his hand, and she could see how pronounced his knuckles were.
And in that moment, Isabel found herself wondering.
When was the last time she had reached out to him first?
Without coercion. Without duty. Without pressure. When had she last touched him because she wanted to?
She couldn’t remember.
‘Then this must be the first time.’
“I belong to Your Majesty.”
“What?”
“So you may do as you please. Whenever you wish.”
Had there ever been a time when Kailhart wanted something and failed to obtain it? According to historians, he’d triumphed in every campaign—unshaken, undefeated.
Someone like that has probably never experienced failure or frustration.
That was why Isabel had chosen silence.
Why she had endured, no matter what he did to her.
She had believed that showing even the slightest resistance would only make things worse.
But if he hated her submission, if it disgusted him, then this was all she had left.
“You—right now…”
Kailhart let out a brief sigh, but unlike usual, there was no mocking smile. Only clenched teeth.
“You’re trying to seduce me, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
Isabel met his eyes.
Her lips were a mess, split and swollen, but she forced them into a smile anyway.
The world seemed to tilt beneath her feet. She felt as though the ground beneath her feet might give way.
But she could bear it.
‘This much, I can handle.’
“I’ll do my best… if you’ll allow it.”
‘I’m okay. I’ll be fine.’
It’s worth a try.
Kailhart’s dark eyes held her completely. In those shadowed, violet irises, where even light seemed afraid to linger, she sat like a sculpture: unmoving and intact.
Despite her inner turmoil, the reflection he saw was calm. This gave Isabel a strange sense of relief.
“I’m always ready to accept Your Majesty, wherever, whenever. I have no reason to refuse.”
So Isabel did her best.
Her pride had been trampled on long ago.
This was the man who had dismissed Isaya’s final prophecy without hesitation.
Yet Kailhart’s expression remained impenetrable, his lips still tightly drawn.
He stared at her suspiciously, as if trying to pierce her sense of duty.
The bones in his hand stood out sharply as he gripped her collar.
That face. It looked as though he was demanding an answer.
A dry smile brushed Isabel’s lips.
‘Honestly… I don’t know anymore. I’m already struggling just to stay standing in front of you without falling apart.’
“Your Majesty, I…”
Yet her eyes, turned toward Kailhart, held not a flicker of hesitation. And in them, the pale blue light of dawn quietly pooled.
“I have always been sincere with you.”
It wasn’t a lie.
Right now, Isabel belonged entirely to him. It made no difference whether her affection was genuine or not. She was completely under his control.
Still, Kailhart remained silent.
His silence pressed down on her like a weight, making it hard to breathe. She felt compelled to say something—anything—to fill the gap.
“If there’s one thing I wish for…I’d like to offer my thanks to the person who pulled me from the water.”
He had saved her life.
She wanted to repay that debt. Instead of denying her outright, however, Kailhart said nothing.
His grip on her collar tightened. Then, suddenly, he lowered his head.
Isabel accepted him as his lips pressed to hers. As he shifted his weight, the edge of the sheet brushed against her hand and the scent of damp earth grew stronger.
The kiss was no longer gentle. It tore through everything, leaving nothing untouched.
‘It hurts… It’s hot…’
Isabel shut her eyes, dizzy from the heat of him.
🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁🍁
“I have always been sincere with you.”
Something hot welled up from deep inside her.
This was her first attempt at seduction, and she found it awkward and clumsy. Yet she still couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. This bothered Kailhart.
He pressed his hand against her cheek and swallowed down the heat rising inside him. Her lashes trembled as she squeezed her eyes shut.
Kailhardt let out a shaky breath.
‘You say you’re sincere? With me?’
The words echoed in his mind, burning him.
Despite knowing that the harder he pulled, the tighter the trap would close around them, he couldn’t stop.
Even though she stood before him, unable to breathe freely, accepting his embrace only to fulfil her sister’s dying wish, Kailhart could only feel frustrated.
He wished she would stop trembling. He wished she would curse him with those red lips.
But all he felt was the sensation of holding sand: rough, ungrabbable, and slipping through his fingers no matter how tightly he clenched his fist.
That fragile instability never left.
“Isabel.”
‘I’ll end up holding you again, won’t I.’
“If you’re going to use me… then look me in the eyes.”
Perhaps the ache would ease if he could recall the feelings he experienced when he was younger, when everything was raw and unformed, and intertwine those memories with the present.
“Remember who it is you’re surrendering to.”
As he forced the words out, Kailhart leaned in and kissed her again.
The corner of the sheet clenched in Isabel’s white-knuckled grip brushed against his pounding temple.
Just as he caught her slender wrists in one firm motion, the memory flashed through his mind.
The lake.
The instant the buried trap detonated, its branching limbs shot out and ensnared Isabel’s entire body.
His body reacted before he could think. This instinct shattered the mask he usually wore, leaving him exposed and raw.
‘Isabel…!’
“You want to have her, don’t you?”
Those rats living off the throne’s shadow.
“You dare covet our princess, like vermin?”
Those parasitic bastards, who’d propped up a puppet king while sucking the kingdom dry, had crawled their way into the capital.
He hadn’t rooted them all out. And now, one of their buried bombs had gone off—right beneath Isabel.
No amount of protective barriers had stopped it.
Even with all the safeguards he’d woven around her, they had pierced through that narrow margin of chance.
Ever since Saint-Au was shattered, they’d been creeping inward—slithering into the palace to latch onto a new host.
Even underwater, those branch-like tentacles had moved swiftly, binding Isabel’s limp body and dragging her down.
She’d crossed into the k*ll zone. Her face had already lost all color. And in that moment—Kailhart’s heart dropped.
‘I will get you back. You, at least, I won’t let go.’
At some point, the old wound on Kailhart’s lip began to sting again. He gritted his teeth, and blue veins appeared on his neck as he became tense.
“You want to thank your savior?”
“Y-yes…”
“Is that so?”
Then you’re doing very well.
He thought, This is why I can see that expression on your face again today.
As fading, distant memories overlapped with Isabel’s face, he felt an urge to weep. He tightened his grip around her.
He reflected on how fortunate he was that he could still wind every strand of her faded hair through his fingers. A low, strained sound escaped from between his clenched teeth.
Kailhart looked down, taking in every detail of the moment he was creating: Isabel’s thin shoulders, slender arms and waist, flat stomach, the tension running through his body and the way their legs were entwined like tree branches.
Her body was still in rough shape, but the bruises on her face had faded slightly.
Suppressing a groan, Kailhart firmly cupped Isabel’s face in his large hands, holding her still as he kissed her again.
The darkness blinded them, leaving only this moment — time to focus on each other and be honest.
It didn’t matter how many times, or how often, she turned him away. He didn’t care. If it was Isabel, he could endure anything.
Watching her tremble like a bird with its wings pinned, Kailhart lowered his head.
“Ah, wait, there, ah—!”
When he kissed her lower, burying his face, Isabel’s white thighs tensed hard. Every time, it was like breathing in the sweet scent of their youth, nearly driving him mad.
“You said you wanted to thank your savior, didn’t you? Then you’ll just have to bear it.”
His whispered words sent a new wave of tremors through her.
These overwhelming, repeated sensations left Isabel feeling exhausted. When Kailhart lifted his head, he saw her covering her mouth with the back of her hand.
He took her wrist and guided her hand to his shoulder. She could barely muster the strength to hold on, and her hand slipped more than once before finally locking around his neck.
At almost the same time, as their bodies pressed tightly together, Isabel let out a hot, stifled breath. Then, at last, a long-held cry escaped her lips.
No matter how familiar they had become, it was still overwhelming for them both.
Isabel’s forehead, which was pressed against his shoulder, was damp with sweat. Between her ragged breaths and faint whimpers, she seemed to murmur something, but he couldn’t catch what she said.
Held tightly in his urgent embrace, Isabel trembled, her body tensing as she bit back a silent gasp, teetering on the edge of release.
“K-Kail…”
With her eyes squeezed shut, his name slipped out from between her parted lips.
