Chapter 16

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Translator: Harry Potta

Chapter: 16

Chapter Title: In the Enemy's Embrace

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“...Can I?”

The night air brushed past, cooling her nape, and beneath it fell the man's searing gaze.

'Even when I show her something good, she's such a downer.'

If you cut off the rest, Kaiyan had at least been trying to show her something nice.

The first night, drenched in endless insults toward House Vermonte.

And the second night that followed.

Clodel had no say in the matter.

Kaiyan had paid the bride price to Duke Vermonte.

There had never been any option for her to refuse him. A house head's authority was absolute to that degree.

The right to decide Clodel's fate had merely shifted from Duke Vermonte to Duke Kaiyan of House Temneth.

Yet here he was, asking this.

An impulsive question burst from her lips.

"If I say no, you won't do it?"

Kaiyan fell silent, offering no reply.

'See? My feelings don't matter one bit.'

As Clodel grew bitter,

"Yes. If you don't want it, I won't force you."

Her eyes widened at the unexpected answer.

"But the longer I hold back, the more you'll have to endure later."

The flicker of emotion—that he'd been showing consideration—faded away.

"That's a threat."

"You're twisting my honest words."

Kaiyan's lips brushed the fingers still clutching her nightgown.

"House Vermonte never listens the first time, does it?"

The man's humid breath dotted her collarbone, her nape, the spot behind her ear.

Vermonte.

The name landed sadly in her ears as she lay cradled in her enemy's arms. Clodel let the strength drain from her shoulders and hands, as if they were her final bastion.

Yet she couldn't tell if the gnawing ache in her heart came from the disease devouring her from within or from her bruised feelings.

Kaiyan eased her onto the bed, pinning Clodel's nightgown-gripping hands to either side of the mattress.

As if she'd bared herself willingly, he slowly lowered his body over hers.

When his hot lips met the bare skin chilled by the cool night air, Clodel jolted.

In this unfamiliar bedroom.

Her only lifeline, however slim, was Kaiyan.

The capital of the Oberon Kingdom was perfectly suited for rule.

Situated at the kingdom's heart, vast fertile plains stretched endlessly to the south.

The royal castle perched where the terrain rose gradually, backed by sheer cliffs—a natural fortress.

Below wound the broad Shen River, the kingdom's lifeline.

Boasting overflowing wealth, the white-stone castle with its gold-leafed roofs gleamed at night like the sun descended to earth.

Oberon King, sovereign of the realm—the dignified, magnificent young King Valquiter—was much the same, as if the castle had taken human form.

Nobles and princesses from neighboring lands praised his beauty, gasping that even a single glance stole their breath. Marriage proposals inevitably followed.

Lush, pale lemon-blond hair framed white skin; deep blue eyes flanked a high, straight nose.

Though his hair and complexion hinted at faint pigmentation, his lips bore an appealing rosy hue.

His shirt lay half-unbuttoned, baring a rigorously trained chest and abs that contrasted sharply with his soft, striking features.

Valquiter lounged askew on the bed, sifting through stacks of letters from abroad.

His bedroom door flew open without warning.

"Valquiter!"

The woman who burst in, brazenly calling the king's name, was his spitting image.

Lemon-blond locks tousled down her back, blue eyes blazing, she charged as if to strike him.

"How could you!"

Even after she kicked the door wide, Valquiter didn't so much as glance her way—fueling her rage as she stomped her foot.

"I told you to let me marry Kaiyan!"

"Biange."

Unlike her teary-eyed charge moments before, a single utterance of her name made her flinch and wilt.

"Such poor manners."

"Brother."

Biange was Valquiter's younger sister by two years.

The king's sole precious princess, raised in the royal household, had eyes only for Duke Kaiyan of House Temneth—her distant cousin across the kingdom.

"You said you'd betroth me after your trip? Kaiyan's married now. By royal decree? You lied! You never meant to make me duchess, did you?"

"Did I ever say I'd betroth you to Kaiyan?"

"Well..."

Biange bit her lower lip in frustration.

She hadn't specified Kaiyan.

Biange had hounded Valquiter endlessly to let her marry Kaiyan.

So when he naturally promised a betrothal after his trip, she'd assumed the omitted subject was obvious: Kaiyan.

"Then who were you going to betroth me to?"

Trembling with betrayal, Biange shrieked.

"Who in this kingdom's even worthy of me? There's no one left to choose from! They're all dead!"

Their mother, Queen Sylvia who ruled the kingdom, had died abruptly.

Valquiter ascended the throne at just eighteen.

A realm under such a youthful, untested king wasn't a partner to ally with—it was a gift from the heavens.

Before mourning rites could conclude, wars ignited from every direction.

Kaiyan, bereft of parents at the same time, marched to the front and returned alive. Others weren't so fortunate.

Houses with siblings sent the younger brother while the head upheld duties.

But in families lacking such spares, the head led the charge.

Where heirs remained unwed, they rushed marriages heedless of propriety—to secure an heir before deployment.

Five grueling years of war later, Valquiter's reign and the kingdom had stabilized. Yet noblemen of marriageable age were scarce as ever.

The plight of unwed noble daughters deepened by the day.

Some swiftly looked abroad for matches.

But as the kingdom's war-torn marriage woes spread overseas, peacetime scrutiny turned to pedigree and fortunes.

Daughters once chasing young, handsome foreign nobles now wed older, scarred veterans.

Next came sons-in-law from the merchant class or court officials—wealthy commoners with solid footing, nobility optional.

This sparked backlash from affluent commoners who'd amassed fortunes quietly. Their prime catches were being snatched by noblewomen despite status gaps.

Men weighed it coldly: nobility meant noble children. Planned commoner unions crumbled, igniting street brawls among matchmakers.

"I said I don't want to marry abroad!"

Even scouring foreign lands, Biange recoiled at elderly husbands.

Queen Sylvia had borne Valquiter and Biange.

Her identical twin, Elise, wed into House Temneth and birthed Kaiyan.

The mothers shared uncanny beauty but differed in style and aura—no mix-ups there.

Their sons were strikingly handsome, however. Many swore the pair resembled each other thanks to twin mothers.

At any rate, Biange had grown up with only Valquiter and Kaiyan as close-in-age males. Broader prospects at her debutante ball repulsed her outright.

Returning from that ball, she'd scrubbed her gloved hand—kissed endlessly by middle-aged suitors—all night, vowing: Kaiyan or no one.

Over gloves, no less. Yet the kingdom's marriage market had shocked her that deeply.

"Your groom."

Valquiter spoke at last.

"I'll start looking for him now."

"What?"

Tears finally brimmed in Biange's eyes.

"You handed the kingdom's finest catch to that trash heap Vermonte. Have you lost your mind? Now you'll look?"

Her mother's only sister had been Duchess of House Temneth.

Elise loomed large for Biange, so even as princess, she despised Vermonte just like House Temneth.

"Princess Biange."

Valquiter called her sternly, by full title.

"Does this behavior befit a princess?"

Using her title instead of name signaled no room for defiance.

"Don't think I'd send my only sister to some old noble's remarriage bed. Leave me."

"...I shall obey the king's will."

Gritting her teeth, Biange bowed stiffly and turned for the door.

But her shattered girlish heart couldn't hold back a final outburst.

"A royal decree marriage can be undone by royal decree! If it's not Kaiyan, I'll die!"

The attendants holding the door froze like statues at her cry, eyes darting to the king.

"No courage even for death."

Valquiter muttered coldly, setting aside his reading to stare into space.

"About a month now? Since he stepped into the marriage grave."

Even after shoving his age-mate cousin off the matrimonial cliff, Valquiter remained unwed.

No king reached this age without a queen.

Crown princes were betrothed by five or six as custom.

His delay had a specific cause.

He wanted a far finer bride than Kaiyan's.

Oblivious, slow-on-the-uptake Kaiyan aside—Valquiter had loathed him since childhood.

He hated being yoked to the duke's heir by their twin princess mothers, enduring endless comparisons of who excelled where.

Still, Kaiyan made a useful piece.

House Temneth was notoriously fertile, collaterals aplenty.

In that dire hour, Valquiter figured his own marriage unnecessary; if Kaiyan fell, collaterals could succeed.

Arrogant enough to bank on his survival, too. Valquiter found such hubris revolting.

That unshakable confidence—all would bend to his will.

Hence the order: wed House Vermonte.

The most hellish match imaginable.

Valquiter's eyes gleamed as he envisioned a bloody north wind ravaging House Temneth, his smile radiant.

"Come next month, maybe I'll have a fine show. Hope it's entertaining."