IWJACM Chapter 28

Under his fingertips alone, the line of the woman's body was too slender, too delicate. And yet the curve running from her waist to her hips arched with unmistakable definition, and her buttocks, when pressed, gave with a resilient softness.

This addictive skin—he'd already confirmed it for himself again and again. And still—pulling his hand back at the right moment was always, always this hard.

Rezet pressed his fingers with restraint, suppressing the urge to grip the soft flesh and squeeze. A low, crude urge lurched in him—to pry open the thighs that filled one hand and shove his face between them.

"Um, my lord…?"

A small ripple moved through her flat stomach, pressed nearly flush against him. He heard Elise's small, ragged breaths. When he lowered his gaze, her ear had gone bright red.

"W-wait, the posture is a little—"

Elise braced trembling hands against his chest and pulled herself away. Even she sensed, somewhere in that moment, that Rezet's mood had shifted into something strange—something wrong. The man's hand had settled dangerously deep.

The thick fog of sleep that had clouded her fled all at once, and an unfamiliar sensation snapped her mind sharply awake. She squirmed faintly. Rezet's lips moved.

"Stay still."

His tone was blunt, but the hand pressing at her back moved with an urgency at odds with it.

Elise's arms gave way, and she tumbled forward against him. She felt something dense and heavy pressing steadily just above her navel, and startled violently.

"Wh—?"

Bewilderment spread nakedly across Elise's face. She looked uncertain what exactly it was that had pressed so closely against her.

But the confusion lasted only an instant. What little sleepiness remained drained entirely from her eyes.

Surely not. Elise froze, not even daring to move.

"My lord, this—"

"Just ignore it."

"That's—I can't possibly."

How was she supposed to ignore this. The heavy weight pressing steadily just above her navel was an unfamiliar sensation entirely.

Elise's gaze dropped without thinking, then wrenched her eyes away with a violent start.

Compared to Elise, who looked as though she'd witnessed something she was never meant to see, the man appeared composed. If not for the cloudy heat in his eyes and the hardness she could feel beneath her, she might have believed it.

Rezet stroked a hand down her waist and spoke in a low, even voice.

"Then you may consider this early practice."

"Wh—what?"

"You wanted this, did you not. Quite fervently, as I recall—you were the one who asked it of me."

"That's…"

"Was I mistaken."

A note of unreadable amusement threaded through the man's low, hoarse voice.

Only then did Elise recall what it took for a man and a woman to couple. Bewilderment flooded across her snow-white face in an instant.

But no one had told her she'd need to withstand something like this…?

Elise's reaction was honest to the point of transparency. Rezet slid his hand along the inside of her thigh, testing. He grazed her cool skin with his fingertips, pressing heat into her—and the woman's breath cut short. She seemed to attempt closing her legs, but held as she was, it was not easily done.

Her damp, golden eyes trembled as if the ground beneath her had split open.

Rezet swallowed a hollow laugh down.

'She really doesn't know a single thing.'

A woman flushed by a sensation she was experiencing for the first time in her life, and yet utterly bewildered as to what it even was. She'd been the one to name the number of times herself—and yet she'd never once laid eyes on a man's body. Not once. It was more than enough to light a fire in a man's instincts.

Not that he hadn't known it already—but every time she showed him that blank-sheet reaction, he was caught between disbelief and a dull throb below.

Let alone a yon'gyn—she didn't even know a man's body. Where had she found the nerve to promise him a child? Or had she simply been so composed because she didn't know?

If Elise had known the man even a little better, and had realized this was a chance she couldn't afford to let slip—if she had, say, laced her fingers through his the way she had before—he would have stripped her bare and laid her down without a second thought.

In truth, for nearly two months now, this was exactly what he had wanted to do.

Elise, caught in the awkward position of neither closing nor spreading her legs, made a face close to tears.

"This is—uncomfortable…"

"If Your Highness keeps moving like that, it will do you no good. Bear with it."

Rezet saw perfectly well how uncertain she was, and did not draw his body back. He did so half deliberately. Her flushed face was rather endearing, and there was a certain satisfaction, too, in watching her strain to endure it exactly as he'd told her.

Of course, he hadn't a shred of intention to press further with someone whose body wasn't even fully well. And he himself was not, at present, in any state so desperate as to throw himself at a woman without a thought for consequence.

He simply didn't want to let go, just yet, of a woman flushed to a temperature so close to his own. This faint sense of fulfillment he felt now—he found he liked it.

Past. Present. And, no doubt, future—if there was one thing about Rezet Kyrstan that never changed, it was this: a crow's greed for whatever glittered.

The most beautiful thing he had ever possessed.

A pity, that he couldn't take his fill of it as he pleased. Handle it roughly and it might break. That would be a problem.

Rezet brushed his fingers along her delicate nape, letting warmth flow into her. He caught her long, curling hair between his fingers and toyed with it, endlessly.

The woman, having finally squeezed her eyes shut, wore the flushed, dazed expression she always did—and it was, as always, ravishing.

A full week passed before the journey began again.

Thanks to the vanguard sent ahead to clear the way, the road to Lothier continued without further delay. Elise spent most of her time in the carriage, occasionally riding Rezet's horse to take in the surrounding country.

They were crossing the northern reaches of Grendel from east to west. The towering ridgelines and gorges grew lower with each passing day, and once they cleared the mountains entirely, a broad plain finally opened before them. It had been more than two weeks since they'd left Van Yela's capital.

"Once the plains appear, that means we've entered Lothier. We're really nearly there now!"

Yvessa, delighted, threw back the curtain and flung the window wide open. Wide wheat fields stretched out without end. Wild grass, still damp from the previous night's rain, swayed thick and lush. Elise, who had only ever seen such a landscape in paintings back in Argan, was transfixed.

Farmhouses stood scattered among sparse rows of cedar. Farmers working the fields spotted the procession of knights and bowed in unison, all at once. Their lord had returned. Those who recognized the Grand Duke riding at the head of the column cheered.

Yvessa pointed out the open window and called out.

"Look at the eastern castle, Your Highness. We're really, truly almost there!"

Far in the distance stood a sand-colored castle wall, holding firm.

Lothier Castle. The castle that would, for now, serve as Elise's refuge stood beneath the noonday sun, displaying its imposing splendor.

4. A Blessed Land

Even in Grendel's harsh, unforgiving north, there are lands counted among the richest.

Places said to carry an ancient, mysterious power passed down from antiquity are called blessed lands, and whatever nation holds such territory is counted, throughout the north's history, among the mightiest of powers. Van Yela's Lothier was one such land.

To the north stretched the rugged Grentern Mountain Range and its forests; to the south, a fertile plain bordered the Loren River. It was Van Yela's greatest granary and the empire's storehouse of food. Warm even in winter, unusual for a northern territory—a truly rich land, fully the equal of anything the south had to offer.

Like every other blessed land, Lothier too had suffered for centuries under the constant pressure of nomadic raiders and neighboring nations, all coveting its plains. Lothier had found peace at last a mere fifteen years back—no more than that—when Van Yela's Emperor handed the territory over to the Grand Duke Kyrstan.

The carriage passed through the verdant plains and farmland and entered within the city walls. It crossed a city bustling enough to rival the capital of a lesser nation, then continued north, toward the mountains.

The lord's castle stood there.

As if to prove it had endured centuries of relentless invasion, Lothier Castle was fortified by three separate defensive lines. The carriage crossed the first drawbridge and climbed a considerable distance further still.

Past the servants' quarters and the fortress housing the knights, and only after crossing the third drawbridge, did the keep where the lord resided finally come into view.

Before the castle, the household staff who had awaited their master's return stood arranged in rows. Three figures occupied the very front line.

From the left: Alfredo, head steward overseeing Lothier Castle; Sover, the Grand Duke's personal aide; and, beside him, Lady Phaetyson, the elderly head of household who managed the castle's affairs alongside Alfredo.

These three were the true power behind Lothier Castle.

Alfredo, Sover, and Lady Phaetyson each raked the carriage with exacting eyes. It had already been a full two weeks since they'd received word that their master would soon return from the capital. And the cause of the endlessly delayed schedule sat right there—inside that carriage, right behind their lord.

Each of their private thoughts was similar, and yet not the same.

'Married, and not one word sent to Lothier first?'

'With the study buried under this much work—this is no time to be off enjoying a honeymoon….'

'What sort of woman is she, that our lord would defy His Imperial Majesty himself just to take her as his wife?'

All three, however, shared one thing in common: none of them particularly welcomed news of the Grand Duke's marriage.